Knight of Wonder
by Novelism
Summary: Batman is at his lowest point. With Robin dead and Batgirl paralyzed, Bruce Wayne is forced to reconsider his motives for wearing the cape. Meanwhile, Diana of Themyscira tries to warn the Justice League of an attack, but the only one who believes her is Bruce Wayne. Diana must first get Bruce to believe in a world worth fighting for, or there won't be a world left to save. BM/WW
1. By the Book

Scene 1: By the Book

It was a rainy night in Gotham City. _It's always raining in Gotham_ Bruce thought to himself gloomily. He listened to the drops as they tapped away against the polymer lining of his suit before rolling away to the wooden boards of the rickety peer that he was standing on. Somehow that tapping noise was more audible to him than the sirens as they drew ever nearer. Then again, he figured, that was also probably due to the suit.

Bruce heard a chuckle come from the person next to him. He cast his gaze on the seated figure. He could still remember his first thoughts when he saw that man. After he had gotten over the initial shock and horror at the man's appearance, Bruce had wondered what ever possessed the man to wear such a dazzling display of purples, greens and pinks that presented an assault to the eye. Of course, whatever possessed the Joker to do anything anyway? Besides, Bruce was soon more preoccupied with the Joker's all too literal assaults to deal with anything as abstract as fashion.

There was some comfort in this reflection, though, since it meant that a large part of him still remained human, and that he had not been completely consumed by his nocturnal identity. It was more than he could say for his nemesis, and, he feared, it might be more than he could say for his good friend Jim Gordon. There was no telling if Jim would ever be able to forgive him after tonight.

Bruce couldn't even begin to wonder what it was like, being tied to a chair and forced to view pictures of your daughter naked and shot through the spine while the Joker tortured her. And then the Joker was able to turn the very photographic proof of that torture on Jim as a means of torturing him. There was one ray of hope in the whole dark affair, however. When Bruce had finally caught up with and rescued Jim, he had promised him that the Joker would pay. Instead, Jim had held up his hand and said, "No, I want him brought in by the book." Bruce liked to think that was a sign that James Gordon was even more incorruptible than he was.

Now the perpetrator of the night's atrocities sat at the end of the peer that held the abandoned wreck that used to be the Gotham City amusement park. The joker let his feet dangle off the edge, looking like an excited child as he waited to be carted off by the police.

The joker let out another chuckle and Bruce was forced to deliver a swift kick to the ribs and demand quiet. "Sorry man," the Joker apologized as he rubbed his side. "I was just thinking of a good one I heard back at the Iceberg Lounge the other day."

Bruce turned his gaze back down the peer as a host of police cars pulled up and disgorged an imposing array of Gotham's finest. As they rumbled up the peer in formation, he heard the Joker say, "C'mon bats, don't you want to hear it? At least let me see if I can't get at least one good laugh out of you before they take me away for good."

Bruce felt himself tense. After the killing joke from the other night, he knew all too well the nature of this madman's humor. Still, for some reason, he found himself turning back to look down at his nemesis. "Alright, try me," he offered in the gravelly tone he always adopted when inside the suit.

The joker looked up at him with those large, mismatched eyes of his that used to be full of mischief and madness, but now Bruce found to his surprise that they were now full of pain and regret. Somehow, he could sense the soul deep down inside of his enemy; a soul just as tortured as any of his victims.

"What do you call a magical owl?" the joker asked in his scratchy, high pitched way. When Bruce made no move to reply, the Joker answered, "Hoodini."

To his complete surprise, Bruce found himself chuckling at this. As the police began to swarm around them while the rain still fell, while Jim sat wrapped in blankets in the back of an ambulance at the end of the pear, as Barbra lay paralyzed in a bed in Gotham General, Bruce found himself chuckling, just before all these things returned to his mind. His demeanor once again grew grave, and he shot out a grapnel that wrapped itself around a far off lamp post, and carried him back into the night.


	2. Conquest

Knight of Wonder

Act I

Scene 2: Conquest

The din of battle was oddly comforting to Diana. There were times when she found this to be a disturbing fact. After all, perhaps it was a bit _too_ comforting. Perhaps her old sword master had been right. Surviving too many battles left more scars on the mind than it did on the body.

Diana couldn't dwell on such matters, however, as the chaos of war swirled all around her. The snarling, skeletal, warrior of Hades a few feet away hefted his spiked mace into the air and gave a shout of triumph at the red of the evening sky after slaying his foe. Then he turned and fixed his eyeless gaze on Diana. She had already anticipated this and was assuming her battle stance, with her broadsword held high above her head with both hands while she set her feet far apart to ground herself against any sudden impact. It was a stance the ancient humans called "the guard of the hawk."

The foe charged at her a swung his mace right at her abdomen. Her shining silver armor would have absorbed most of the blow, she knew, which would throw the warrior off balance as he took time to recover. Diana couldn't afford to take those kinds of unnecessary hits, however, and she instead brought her sword swooping down to parry the swing. The warrior tried again from a different angle and met the same result. During the second move, Diana worked her foot forward and, after the strike was successfully parried, she kicked her foot out, throwing her enemy off balance and bringing him to one knee. It was all the opportunity she needed to deliver a swift kick to the head which sent the warrior sprawling on the ground.

Wasting no time Diana quickly pivoted on one foot and slashed the arm of another attacker who went stumbling away howling in pain. Then Diana brought her sword around in a wide arc and cut the head off a nearby skeleton that had momentarily been thrown off balance by a fellow Amazon.

Not long after, Diana found her dance interrupted when the body of another Amazon came sailing through the air and crashing into her, knocking her to the ground. After taking a moment to regain her focus, Diana pushed the body of the fallen Amazon off of herself before standing up with a ragged growl.

"You don't appear to be having a very good day, my dear," a voice came from out of the thick atmosphere of combat.

Diana felt her eyes go wide and she spun around to see the soldiers of Themyscira and Olympus parting before her. In between them stepped the imposing figure of Hades. He was the sort of figure one would expect from a lord of hell: fully a head taller than Diana, with a tentacled jaw, long black hair, and an enormous musculature that was barely concealed by his silver plated power armor. He had the same grin on his face that he always had during marshal contests, although Diana grimly wondered if a part of it was not also about how weak she looked compared to him in this moment, with her battle armor stained with blood and Earth, and her face streaked with sweat.

"Perhaps if your were willing to come with me peacefully, I might see a way to improve your day before it ends, although I'm afraid you must hurry for there's not much day left," Hades continued in his telepathic speech. Even in telepathy his tone was the same smooth, honey dripping over tiles, baritone. Diana had grown to hate it after all these years.

"If that's the way you see it then you are sadly mistaken," Diana spat back before literally spitting reddened saliva at the ground beside her. "After all your years of battle against Themyscira, you should know by now that we never give up a fight."

"Ah and what a model enemy you are," Hades said wistfully as he held out a hand. Somewhere behind him, a magister's spell went off, sending up a great plume of smoke and bodies. "Can we not return to those days? There is no need to continue this pointless conflict."

Diana could have remarked at the irony of Hades asking her to make peace with him, but instead all she said was, "We cannot return to those days. Not after you betrayed my mother and tried to take away our homeland. Now you will suffer the fate of all traitors." Diana held her sword aloft to assume her battle stance.

Hades let out a long sigh and said, "If you would insist on beating me at my own game then… so be it," and the edges of Hades' power armor lit up red. He took a few gigantic strides to pick up speed before he leapt into the air and came down with an enormous crash that sent Diana and everyone else around her toppling to the ground.

Diana scrambled backwards as Hades approached in quick step. Groping the ground, searching for the sword she lost in her fall, Diana instead found the discarded shield of an Amazonian warrior. She quickly grabbed it and held it in front of her just before Hades punched a massive dent in it with a gauntleted fist.

Hades was winding up for another strike that would surely punch through the shield and physically devastate Diana when a lone Amazonian warrior came leaping out of the battle. She crashed into Hades' upper body and the lord of hell let out a deep roar of frustration.

Diana seized the opportunity and cast the ruined shield aside as she lunged for her sword. When she rose back up, Hades had already grabbed the Amazonian warrior and flung her away. Hades was about to finish her off when Diana dashed in front of him and struck away a killing strike with her sword.

Hades snarled in anger and reached after Diana who held out her sword defensively. Hades grabbed the sword by the blade with his armored hand and broke it off at the hilt before casting the pieces aside. Then he strode towards Diana threateningly. Just then the fallen warrior from earlier reached out a hand and grabbed Hades by the ankle. The dark god gave a low, awkward grunt as he was thrown off balance. He lashed out at Diana with one arm but the swing went wild, giving Diana time to duck low and avoid the attack.

As she rolled away on the dusty ground to avoid a second swing, Diana's fingers closed around a familiar golden coil. She brought it up to her eye level with an expression of delight. "Don't scare me like that," she chastised her weapon of choice. After that troll had ripped it from her grasp early in the battle, Diana was unsure if she would ever find it again.

Rising with a new sense of resolve, the brave yet weary Diana lashed out with her lasso which caused Hades to flinch away as he finally managed to shake himself free of the grasp of the Amazonian warrior. He then ran at Diana with a snarl but she side stepped him, causing him to stumble before coming to a halt in front of a mob of battling warriors. Hades spun around with another angry roar that was suddenly choked off.

Diana had wrapped her lasso around the thick neck of Hades and she pulled with all her might as the mad god jammed his hands at his throat. Her strength was too much for him, however, and Hades was soon brought literally to his knees, gasping for breath and holding a hand aloft in a gesture of yielding.

As she loosened her pull on Hades, Diana heard him choke, "Stop! I forfeit!" Just a moment later, the skeletal forces of Hades dropped back from their opponents and started dropping their weapons. The warriors of Themyscira raised their fists into the air and began cheering in victory. All the while, Diana held her grip on the lasso around Hades' neck firm while she stared deep into his eyes with an expression of genuine derision. "There'll be no second chances for you this time, lord of hell," Diana warned. "This time you will face justice."

Author's Note: This story is all mine on my own Earth. The characters however, are not mine. I just like to play with them.

The next scene will be up later this week... please leave me a review! I would love to know what you guys think!


	3. Triumph

Knight of Wonder

Act I

Scene 3: Triumph

Themyscira had not seen a triumph like this since Diana was a little girl. All she could recall from that event were hazy images of golden banners, cheering crowds and the stifling heat of the noonday sun. In a way, this triumph was not all that different, except for the fact that she actually had a role to play in it.

The little girl that clung to the skirts of a nearby spectator reminded Diana intensely of herself at that age. She quickly looked away from the pair and over to the four enormous, white horses that were pulling her chariot. Behind her stood her good friend Zola, whispering reminders of her mortality to her to prevent the splendor of this moment going to Diana's head. In front of them, in a gilded cage, the chained and defeated Hades sat glowering as the wheels on the cage bore him ever closer to his prison.

That prison was located in the underworld, and if Diana had her way he would be there now, languishing in the eternal fire of his own malicious design. It had been Hippolyta's insistence that the people of Themyscira have a chance to witness their nation's victory over the forces of Hell first hand that had swayed Diana. She had always been cautious, but she had yet to deny her mother's wishes when it came to statecraft.

The chariot pulled into the gleaming white forum where Amazonian warriors held the crowd back as they stood in a neat phalanx encircling the square, their golden shields interlocking to form a near seamless wall. There the procession came to a halt and Diana dismounted. She approached the steps of the palace at a slow pace, though not for lack of a sense of urgency since it was her heavy, newly polished silver armor that weighed her down.

The silver hawk carved in her breastplate reflected the white sunlight into her eyes as Diana removed her winged helmet and made a brief bow before the assembled governing elite of Themyscira that stood in a line on the steps above. Hippolyta was among them, and she held out her hand and silenced the crowd with a wave. At length, Diana spoke. "Noble matrons of Themyscira, elected members of the senate, I bring before you in chains, the enemy of our people."

Hades glowered at the ground outside his cage as Diana's pronouncement echoed around the temples and trading houses of the forum, swelling the hearts of the women assembled there.

"He has stood with arms of war against us, and in so doing has met the defeat of all who oppose great Themyscira," Diana bellowed on. "I bring him before you now to face your wise justice."

There was a long pause before Hippolyta broke from the ranks of her fellow matrons. Stepping forward and making a sweeping gesture she responded, "Diana, venerable goddess of war, sentinel of our people, the matrons of Themyscira recognize you and look with favor upon your victorious return. You are welcome here, as is your gift of Themyscira's defeated foe. We shall deal out the proper justice to him in due course, but for now, ascend these steps and give us your counsel, for we much desire your wisdom in this… and many other affairs."

The cage carrying Hades began to rattle away as Diana gave another bow of respect to the matrons before she began to ascend the steps to join them inside the palace. A quartet of trumpeters blew a loud call and the remaining members of the triumphal procession proceeded to march off in good order while the crowd roared its approval.

Inside the palace, the air was much cooler. Diana set her helmet on a nearby table just before she embraced Hippolyta who said to her with great relief, "Noble daughter you've no idea how much good it does it to see you again."

"I know mother, although perhaps I was more certain of my return than you were," Diana said with a smirk as the two broke apart.

Hippolyta's face was stern. "Those are the words of a naïve girl," she chastised. "I had hoped that this time you might learn something of the seriousness of war."

Diana's expression grew suddenly fierce. "Do not presume that I know nothing of war, mother," she fired back. "I have seen more conflicts than you have and the seriousness of each of them is not lost upon me. I merely rejoice at seeing my mother again and seek to give words of reassurance. You might do well to heed them."

"I will heed such words when there are no more wars to fight," Hippolyta coolly responded as she removed the laurels and pins of her office and set them on a tray bourn by an attendant. Then she beckoned Diana to follow her as she slowly walked out to the palace courtyard; a vast green space with large hedges, a twisting stone walkway and a large, weeping Hera carved of marble and set in the center of the space.

"You know as well as I that there will always be another war to fight," Diana said as she regretfully set foot back in the sunlight. As her armor reflected the sunlight again, Diana did a bit of her own reflection on how just a few days ago this same armor was almost in ruins. She had Zola to thank for its current presentable state. Diana looked back at the short, blond haired woman who stood at the edge of the courtyard at a respectful distance from her and her mother. Diana motioned for Zola to stay where she was and Zola gave a quick nod of acknowledgement.

"Themyscira's enemies are many," Hippolyta said. "We have always known this. You have merely delivered a flesh wound to the body of evil that surrounds us."

"And yet if I did not rise to do so, then that evil would likely consume us," Diana pointed out.

"You are right, of course," Hippolyta said with a weary sigh. "And yet, I wish it was not you who had to bear this burden… well it makes no difference what I think. You have done Themyscira proud today, my daughter, and the evidence of that is written on the hearts of all the women out there who cheer your name."

Diana looked at her mother with wide eyes before looking away anxiously. Rare were words of approval from Hippolyta, and when they came, they were enough to make Diana feel as though she could take flight. She only wished it didn't take so much toil to get such brief approval from a woman Diana viewed as a role model and paragon of wisdom.

"Still, as I said, Themyscira's enemies abound," Hippolyta said as her voice returned to its usual, business tone. She cast a glance back at Zola before she looked back at her daughter and informed her, "Word has reached me of a conspiracy involving your friend back there."

Diana cocked a skeptic eyebrow. "Zola?" she whispered back. "What has she gotten herself mixed up in this time?"

Hippolyta shook her head. "Not here," she whispered tersely before she shepherded Diana to a dark corner of the courtyard. They passed under small archways that lead to a door flanked on either side by two gold liveried guards. One of the guards swung the door open and Diana and Hippolyta passed into a long, tiled hallway lined with busts of the former rulers of Themyscira.

As the door banged shut behind them, Diana heard her mother say, "Word has reached me that Hephaestus is purchasing the male children of the Amazons in exchange for weapons… and Zola is the arbitrator of the arrangement."

The look on Diana's face was one of incredulity as she asked, "Why would such an arrangement even be necessary? The war with Hades is over so we've no more need for weapons, and I can't possibly see what Hephaestus would want with the male children of our people."

"In the case of Hephaestus, your guess is as good as mine," Hippolyta conceded. "But as for Zola, I can think of a few reasons as to why she might want to stockpile weapons…"

Diana walked in front of her mother, spun around and stopped. She fixed her with a piercing look as she declared, "I would be willing to personally vogue for Zola. She knows our customs as well as any, and I seriously doubt she would become involved in such an underhanded deal. The Zola I know is better than that. We have been friends for many years now."

"And that is precisely the reason why you are not to become involved in the affair," Hippolyta said as she waved a dismissive hand at her daughter. She brushed passed Diana and glided over to a nearby door which she proceeded to unlock with a key hidden in the folds of her flowing white garb. "I just thought it was a courtesy to notify you of the inquiry into your friend's activities. Do not make me regret it," Hipployta warned her daughter severely. She then swung the door open and beckoned her daughter to continue following her.

The mixed emotions were frothing inside Diana as she entered her mother's cavernous office chambers. On the one hand, there was her loyalty to Zola that was the unshakable loyalty of any warrior to another. The stresses of battle brought people together in a way no other event in life could, and Diana doubted she could set those feelings aside for the sake of due process. On the other hand, there was Diana's commitment to justice, and deep down she knew she could not deny her mother's wish, or the wishes of the Amazonian inquisition in carrying out what was necessary to protect the state of Themyscira.

"There is another matter which requires your attention," Hippolyta said as she swept across the room and took a seat at her vast, polished wood desk. "A matter which everyone feels you are uniquely qualified to handle."

A look of confusion briefly passed over Diana's face before her mother gestured to the corner of the room. Out of the shadows stepped a tall, muscular, ebony skinned man in the black and green uniform of the Lantern Corps.

"John!" Diana exclaimed upon realizing the identity of this particular Lantern. He struck an imposing figure as he stood there with his hands clasped behind his back, the square of his black goateed jaw set in a resolute expression, and the gray of his gaze lending a sense of purpose. _No wonder Shayera was so besotted with him_ Diana thought to herself flippantly.

"Lantern John Stewart has come to us with dire news regarding Earth," Hippolyta announced.

Diana's look became grave as she asked her friend, "What news do you bring? Is there some threat to Earth that we don't know about yet?"

John shook his bald head and said, "It's one we don't know about yet, but I'm assembling the other members of the league and telling them to meet at the Watchtower. You're only one of a lot of stops I've got to make today."

John sounded weary as he said this and it was not lost on Diana who asked, "Who have you contacted so far?"

"So far, just Flash and J'onn. We've tried getting ahold of Batman but he's not picking up," John answered.

Diana smirked. _Oh Bruce_ she thought. _Ever the loner_. Then she asked aloud, "What about Clark?"

"He's in a meeting with the President right now, which is why I'm currently taking the time to come to you," John informed.

Diana shifted her weight, crossed her arms and asked, "And just what is this new threat that you need to have all of us at the Watchtower so soon."

"Not long ago, the Lanterns on Oa started getting strange deep space readings on their monitors. After sending some Lanterns to figure out the source, they discovered that the readings were coming from a series of slip space jumps being made by an invasion fleet. After calculating their trajectory, we were able to backtrack them to their planet of origin… Apokolips."

Diana's eyes narrowed. "Darkseid," she growled. "How did his fleet make it passed New Genesis without Highfather taking notice?"

"That's just it," John said. "We don't really know. I'm heading there next to ask Highfather myself."

"And you know that Darkseid's forces are headed for Earth?" Diana asked as she eased her stance.

"Given his last known location and his history with us, where else would he be headed?" John asked with light sarcasm.

"And you're planning on going to New Genesis next instead of warning Clark?" Diana asked urgently.

John smiled and said, "Actually I was going to ask you a favor…"

Sorry for being a bit late. Next one up shortly!


	4. Back to Black

Knight of Wonder

Act I

Scene 4: Back to Black

"So basically what you are saying is that you are abandoning us." The baritone voice of J'ohnn Jones echoed inside the walls of Bruce's mind as though the cave around him were the Martian's own voice box. At first, the ability had come off as supremely unsettling. After the many months that they had worked together, however, it was starting t become routine. Nevertheless, J'ohnn still insisted that Bruce dial him up on the Batcomputer's video screen so they could commune face to face. This was mainly because J'ohnn was able to sense just how much the telepathic speech still bothered his colleague. Of course, the very fact that J'ohnn knew this about him without having ever said a word to him about it was something Bruce always found a little disturbing.

"I didn't say I was abandoning you," Bruce said aloud at the grainy screen bearing the image of the Martian in front of him. "I like to work alone. You have always known that."

"Yes but not like this," the Martian thought to Bruce without moving the lips on the green, but otherwise generic looking human face the shape shifter adopted for conversation. _Yet another compensation for his unsettlingly alien nature_ Bruce thought to himself glibly. There was a time when Bruce had attempted to censor such thoughts in the interest of being more diplomatic, but after a while he decided that he didn't really care if J'ohnn liked him or not. At this particular moment, the opinions of the Martian were particularly worthless to him.

"What you are proposing is tantamount to your resignation from the League," J'ohnn framed as a pressing insistence.

Bruce waved a hand dismissively at the screen and said, "Call it a resignation if you want, but I intend to return. I just need to settle a few matters back here and all I'm saying is that it could take a long time."

"I'm sure the League would be willing to grant you all the time you require to sort out whatever these personal matters of yours are," the Martian conceded, "but given your prior history of disappearing for months on end without even so much as a check in has given some of the members of the League pause to consider your motivations."

Bruce cocked an eyebrow underneath the mesh of his bat eared hood. "Motivations," he said flatly. "You think that my dedication to the League is somehow less than your own? I built the Watchtower that you are currently standing in, remember."

"Your material contributions to the League have been crucial and everyone knows that, but those contributions cannot make up for the cost in the depth of our combined abilities created by your absence," J'ohnn thought out rather forcefully. "We formed the League to operate as a _unified_ force for justice. I cannot stress the former part of that definition enough. The day will have to come when you must decide if your preference for acting alone will supersede your desire to see a broader form of justice carried out against those you cannot apprehend on your own."

The fleeting image of a recent newscast flashed across Bruce's mind. _Gang war threatens peace of Gotham's streets. The nefarious gang of street thugs lead by the vigilante masquerading as Red Hood seeks to end the long reign of Black Mask on the criminal underworld._ The inability of the Dark Knight to bring the leaders of these groups to justice was something that ate away at Bruce, and he suspected the Martian knew that. If J'ohnn thought that was how he was going to talk him out of this, however, he had another thing coming.

"In desperate cases, there is no justice but the one created by our own initiative. That is why I exist, and that is why, for the moment, I must take my leave of the league. Make of that what you will, but I will return when my task is done. You have my word. Goodbye J'ohnn."

With that, Bruce set his index finger down forcefully on the end transmission button and the screen on the computer quickly went dark, blending in with the shadowed surroundings of the cave. He let out a long sigh of relief as he curled his hand into a fist. J'ohnn could sit up there in the Watchtower and expect to dish out orders all he wanted, but that didn't mean that Bruce always had to follow them.

Removing his hand from the console, he let it fall lazily to his side while he spun around and walked slowly over the onyx black tile floors of the cave. This was his element. It was quite and dark, in this place, with nothing to disturb him except the distant sound of running water, the rare stirring of a bat, or whirr of the computer as it punched up a fresh crime report. Branching the cave out from beneath the old Gotham subway system had been a great choice. In fact, Bruce found it rather ironic that Clark found such equal solace in that crystalline monstrosity far in the north, with its bright atmosphere and cacophony of noise generated by his Kryptonian pets bread in Wayne-Tech de-extinction labs. How did wonder boy ever find any sleep with all the light in that place anyway?

At length, Bruce reached the armor capsule and stepped inside. Within moments, a host of robotic arms descended and peeled him out of his suit. Bruce stepped out of the capsule in nothing but his tight fitting mesh suit that was designed to protect him from the chaffing he had experienced when he first donned the suit a few years ago. The suit itself was stored neatly into the capsule via automation alongside the capsules containing the black and blue suit that Dick now preferred, the black and gold suit that Barbra had been making good use of until recently, and the heavily punctured red and black suit that Jason had worn.

The swirl of emotions that buffeted Bruce's mind at the very sight of that last suit was almost enough to make him stagger. He reached a hand out against the glass of the display to steady himself. Before long he was breathing hard and a light film of perspiration had formed on his forehead. Bruce wiped at it with his hand as the sleek black floor beneath him seemed to spin. Images of Jason's youthful, smiling face came unbidden into the center of his vision. In the distance Bruce could have sworn he heard a low, droning, "Hahahaha," as the images in his mind raced by; the defiant look in Jason's eyes when Bruce caught him trying to steal the tires off the Batmobile, his cries of triumph when he would pass an obstacle course during his training, his cocky words when he would rev his motorcycle, stamp out his cigarette and ride off into the night instead of studying for exams, and the way Barbra would look at him whenever they passed each other in the halls of Wayne Manor.

Then the dark dream turned into a true nightmare. The image came as unbidden into Bruce's mind as the others had, but this one was enough to make him mouth the word, "No," in a hoarse whisper over and over again as the wild eyed, desperate face of Jason Todd stared pleadingly at him from a grainy television screen as the wrinkly face of the clown behind him playfully gave out false ultimatums that were inaudible with a soundtrack of hysterical laughing.

By this point, Bruce's breathing had gone ragged and he was forced to slump to the floor in a heap of self-loathing and angry grief. "Of all the people I saved… why couldn't you have been one of them," he asked the shadows.

"Sir?" asked an accented voice from out of the shadows.

Bruce quickly looked up to see a large beam of light shining into the cave. Silhouetted against that light was the thin, aging, neatly dressed form of Alfred Pennyworth, with a puzzled look on his face and a glass of water in his hand. "Sir, are you alright?" he asked earnestly.

Bruce looked at his butler and most loyal friend with all the affection of a son to a father in that moment. At length, he threw up his hands and asked, "What am I supposed to say Alfred?"

Alfred shook his head as he crossed down the staircase and approached. Handing the glass of cool water to Bruce, Alfred replied, "You don't have to say anything sir. You, Dick, Barbra… we all miss Jason, but no one feels that loss more keenly than you."

After gazing at the cold water in his hand for a few moments, Bruce drained it in a single swig and handed the glass back to Alfred. As the fresh liquid percolated through his body, the sense of refreshment he felt went deeper than the physical one he was feeling. Bruce looked back up at the red and black suit with a new sense of purpose. Alfred always had an uncanny ability to say the exact words that Bruce needed to hear at any given time, and this occasion was no exception. Jason's death was indeed his cross to bear, and it was time to do something to make it right.

Groaning as he stood up, Bruce waved away a helping hand from Alfred as he brought himself to his feet. "Get the car ready, Alfred," he commanded. "I'm going out tonight."

"Again sir? I mean I shall do as you ask, of course, but I'm afraid I must advise against it," Alfred warned.

"No not that car," Bruce corrected. "Get the Rolls ready, I meant. I think I need a drink and someone to socialize with."

"Besides me you mean," Alfred commented in a mock accusatory tone.

The look on Bruce's face was intensely apologetic. "Now Alfred, I didn't mean that…"

"Think nothing of it. I was only joking," Alfred said with a warm smile and a dismissive wave of a hand.

Bruce let himself relax a little. He didn't smile back, though, for on the inside he felt the keen sense that he had had enough of joking around for a long time.

A little less than half an hour later and Bruce was dressed to kill in his blue pinstripe suite. His black hair was neatly slicked back and one of his nicer watches gleamed from behind his shirt cuff. Alfred brought the Rolls Royce Silver Phantom to life and glided it around the drive to the front steps of Wayne Manor just as Bruce came out.

Less than twenty minutes later, the lights and streets of the city floated in and out of view as the misting nighttime rain clouded the windows before getting brushed away by the windshield wipers. Before long, the intended destination gently hovered into view. The green and orange glow of the neon sign indicated the exterior of the club "Eden." Bruce waited until just before the car came to a stop to pop open the car door. Meanwhile, Alfred leaned his head back and advised, "Be careful sir. I can't imagine that they'll take too kindly to a man of your stripe in a place like that."

"That's the point Alfred," Bruce replied with a grin. "Head back to Wayne Manor. I'll find my own way home. Thanks," Bruce told Alfred by way of a farewell.

Alfred looked uncertain as Bruce shut the car door. A moment later and the car was speeding off down the street and out of view while Bruce watched from the sidewalk, his suit becoming spotted with rain all the while. When the car was out of sight, Bruce turned and headed for the entrance to the club. A large, bald, surly looking bouncer looked him over skeptically before permitting him entrance. Inside Bruce could felt as though this could almost have been the type of place he could enjoy. It was dark and damp, and the only sound audible over the throbbing beat of Eurhythmics' "Sweet Dreams" was the hazy babble of the escort girls at the nearby table as they fawned over someone Bruce thought looked suspiciously like a member of the board of directors at Wayne Enterprises. Of course the atmosphere was all a lie. The damp was a combination of the perspiration of the undulating bodies of the dancers on the dated looking glow tile floor. The darkness was punctured by the frequently offending strobe light, and the combined chatter of aging rock stars, randy party girls, frat boys and jaded businessmen all swirled together like the bodies of the dancers to make a sound as equally offending to the ears as the place was offending to the eye. This was a perverted version of the cave; a place where societies hungry and desperate mixed with the powerful and predatory to recreate the Darwinian ecosystem that civilization had displaced.

As he slowly drifted further into the bowls of this machine of culture, Bruce couldn't help but notice the analyzing, if fleeting, stares of the people he passed by. They looked him up and down, quickly picking him out as fresh meat either for their carnal desire or for their greed, before quickly glancing away as Bruce's gaze settled on each of them, remembering each of their faces distinctly just in case. At length, Bruce neared a door at the back of the club where he found his path blocked by a couple of kids in ill-fitting jackets and large, neon rimmed glasses.

"Hey, hey, hey there big money!" one of them said as he held out a hand. This one had a green Mohawk that stood out from a bleached white dome; a hairstyle that reminded Bruce disturbingly of the clown. "You can't go in there. That's private."

Bruce glowered at the youth as he countered, "And why is that? I thought there were no secrets in the Garden of Eden."

The youth laughed a squeaky little laugh before continue in that Mickey Mouse voice of his, "You should brush up on your Bible, pal. The Garden is full of secrets, and these ones here ain't meant for you, now scram!"

As he lowered his shoulders and rolled his head back and forth, Bruce wondered if this kid had ever even seen a Bible in his life. "Maybe so, kid, but you better get out of my way unless you want a very different lesson in the Old Testament," he said as he cracked his knuckles.

The kid gave a throaty chuckle as the glint of a switchblade flashed out from his pocket. "Go ahead man, educate me. I dare ya," the kid sneered as his buddies closed in around Bruce.

A moment later and the kid was flying bodily through the door he had formerly been trying to keep shut. Over the squirming bodies of the other youths and through the improvised threshold stepped a disgruntled looking Bruce Wayne. He looked about and flipped on a light switch to illuminate a short, dark hallway with another door at the end. The kid scrambled to his feet and raced down the hall to the door, flinging it wide into the wall in his panic. Bruce followed at an even pace, stepping into the large, rectangular office at the end. At the other side of the office was an enormous desk where there sat a man in a red hood and leather jacket. He had his feet, shoed in a high black combat boots, propped up on the desk.

His lackey ran up to him and pleaded, "I'm sorry for lettin' the guy in here boss but he just took down three of my guys like they were bowlin' pins!"

Red Hood waved a dismissive hand and said in a muffled, if surprisingly youthful voice, "Don't worry about it, Chum. I've been expecting Mr. Wayne."

The look on the kid's face was incredulous as he shot a look back at the resolute figure of Mr. Wayne before looking desperately back at his boss the hooded figure pointed a finger at a side exit by way of commanding the kid to get lost. He promptly did.

"I assume you were expecting someone else, Mr. Wayne?" Red Hood asked in a playful tone.

Bruce scowled at Red Hood. "I was looking for Falcone but you'll do just as well," he growled.

Red Hood slowly shook his concealed head as he swung his booted feet from the desk and sprang from his chair into a quick stride that brought him around to the front of the desk, about ten feet away from the still glowering Mr. Wayne. Red Hood wagged a finger at the cranky looking businessman and apologized, "I'm afraid Carmine is away in Bogota on a business trip and won't be back for another two weeks. He's left me in charge until he returns."

"How magnanimous of him," Bruce said sarcastically as he figured both he and Red Hood knew why a drug lord like Carmine Falcone would be running around in Colombia. "You realize he could just as easily have given that job to your rival Black Mask."

"Yes I know," Red Hood acknowledged as he swiped an eight ball from off the desk he had started to lean on. He tossed it in the air and caught it lazily over and over as he continued, "He's playing us off against each other so he can crush the victor and be the undisputed kingpin of Gotham. Honestly I don't care. All I know is, I'm the good guy in all this. You don't want the real terrorists like Black Mask running around the streets unchecked. Trust me Mr. Wayne, you _want_ me to succeed, and I will. And when I do, I'll quietly fade away and you won't hear from me mused." With that, Red Hood caught the eight ball with a final, fearsome swipe just before he demanded, "Some men come to Falcone seeking the means to perpetrate war while he only seeks to perpetuate one, so tell me Bruce, which are you here to do?"

"Your war with Black Mask is a plague on Gotham," Bruce said flatly. "It takes two to fight a war. Remove one of the actors and the conflict is over. I had hoped that Falcone would help me in that endeavor, but now I see I'll have to do that myself."

"Oh Mr. Wayne," Red Hood let out condescendingly. "If that's how you thought this would go then you have a lot to learn about the underworld. I'd advise you to go home and forget about all this but you and I both know that isn't going to happen."

With that, Bruce tensed his body, and when Red Hood hurled the eight ball at his face he was ready for it. Dodging deftly out of the ball's flight path, he was now facing a large, grinning youth whose face was heavily studded with piercings. Bruce reached a hand up and caught the end of the baseball bat that the youth promptly swung at him. Ripping the bat out of the kid's hands sent the boy tumbling forward and Bruce quickly pivoted and delivered a strike with the bat to the kid's back.

A red hooded stranger came at Bruce next. This was not the leader, who was still leaning casually against the desk, but Bruce took no time to deliberate as he threw the bat at the stranger who caught it awkwardly just before Bruce delivered a knockout punch to the stranger's concealed face. Then Bruce felt a pair of arms wrap around his torso. He elbowed his attacker furiously, but without the ability to deploy shock sticks like he could in the suit, his elbows thudded into the flesh of his clearly much larger assailant uselessly.

Just then, Red Hood sprang forward and closed the distance to the still struggling Bruce who could only watch in horror as Red Hood drew a small black canister from his coat and said, "Really Mr. Wayne, even if you did have your mask on tonight, there's no way you can save Gotham on your own. You would have thought the Joker taught you that lesson." Then Red Hood gave Bruce a small spray from the canister.

As he did so, however, a white blur came out of nowhere and crashed into Red Hood, sending him toppling out of the way. It was a little late for Bruce, however, who coughed and spluttered from the mysterious gas. As his vision fogged and his eyes filled with tears, Bruce felt the arms restraining him release for some unknown reason. He fell to the ground and gasped for air that felt like it wouldn't come. He rolled over and heaved his chest as hard as he could, trying to catch a breath and not surrender to the intense urge to vomit, which was a battle he quickly lost.

As he lay there on the ground, clinging to consciousness with all the willpower he could muster, Bruce's mind raced around to figure out what he had been gassed with, how on earth Red Hood could have known his nocturnal identity, and what the hell that white blur was that was racing about the room and crashing into Red Hood and his men. It had been foolish to come here. Bruce had known full well the possibility of what he was going to run into, but the truth of Red Hood's words were finally starting to ring true through the choking haze he was wallowing in. What was he trying to prove in coming down here in the middle of the night on his own without his abilities as the Dark Knight? If he couldn't protect those he loved behind the mask, there certainly wasn't any indication that he could do a better without it and this encounter was proof enough of that.

Just as Bruce felt his conclusions reaching their lowest point, he was seized by the distinct feeling of being lifted into the air. There was a sharp cracking noise and Bruce found himself coughing and struggling to wave away smoke and dust, but his upper body was being held tight by some mysterious white shape. Wind buffeted his suit as he felt his ears start to pop and that was when Bruce began to realize. He strained his neck so he could lift his head up and he was met with the welcome sight of flowing brown hair crowned with a silver winged helm. Bruce smiled and croaked "Diana" before everything faded to back to black.


	5. Morning Sunrise

Knight of Wonder

Act I

Scene 5: Morning Sunrise

The smoke and flame was almost enough to consume Bruce's entire consciousness. Against the stark industrial backdrop of the Gotham docks and the black of the night beyond, the only thing that was visible was the burning ruin of the warehouse. Bruce raced towards the destruction, sweat pouring out from beneath the mask and onto his exposed jaw. He reached the remains of a doorway and threw off a burning two-by-four with a ferocity he didn't even no he had. His body stung from the heat even through the fibers of the suit. Just as Bruce took a deep breath in preparation for a plunge into the fiery depths of the building, it was stolen away from him by another explosion that almost lifted him off the ground as he stumbled backwards and crashed into a pile of wooden crates as debris from the warehouse spewed everywhere.

Summoning what strength he had left, Bruce crawled forward, the sound of hysterical laughter once again beginning to fill his head. He screamed in agony in order to drown out the sound but he couldn't banish the awful cackle from his mind. Bruce looked up at the remains of the warehouse as tears began to fill his eyes and he let out another scream; a scream of horror.

The night that lay beyond the flames began to recede as the flames leapt higher into the air until the whole world was flame, growing hotter and brighter until Bruce woke up in a fury. He thrashed about for a moment while a firm hand on his chest held him down. Then, slowly, Bruce began to reorient himself.

The white sheets of his bed glowed in the light of the morning sun. The bedroom around him was neatly arranged and decorative, exactly as he usually left it due to his propensity to spend entire nights in the cave staring at the computer; something Alfred always gave him hell for.

Bruce looked to his immediate left and was surprised by the sight. A woman sat at the edge of his bed, her hand having moved from holding him down to caressing his arm. Bathed in the bright sunlight of the early morning, it was initially difficult to make out her face, but Bruce knew full well who this was.

As his eyes adjusted, the full image of her finally came into focus. Diana's long brown hair hung loosely about her shoulders, the soft features of her face seized with a look of genuine concern that emanated from her large brown eyes. The light brown of her skin glowed immaculate in the morning sunrise. She was wearing that gray shirt with the sheep on it that she so favored. He never said it, but Bruce always found it funny whenever Diana would lay eyes on anything sheep related, whether it was clothing on a stranger or jewelry she had just repossessed from a thief. Her eyes would grow wide and her features would light up with this child like intensity that cracked her otherwise fierce Amazonian façade, if only for a moment. The shirt combined with her bellbottom jeans and bare feet to give evidence to just how long she had probably been hanging around Wayne Manor and, Bruce thought grimly, just how long he had been out.

This brought his thoughts back to his own person. It was in that moment that Bruce realized, to his horror, that he was naked except for his underwear. He felt his eyes go wide at this realization and he looked at Diana accusingly. "Did you…"

"Alfred changed you." Diana headed of Bruce's question quickly. "Though I won't promise that I didn't help," she finished with a playful inflection.

Bruce frowned and gave a low, grumpy sounding hum as he held up the sheet to look himself over. His body was as in shape as it had ever been from a fitness standpoint. Long hours spent in the gym trying to drive out bad memories through physical exertion were to thank for that, but the scars across his arms and chest still told stories of hard lessons learned from times when he had grown over confident. This morning he observed that he might be adding one or two more as his fingers probed the bandages that checkered his body.

Letting the sheet fall, Bruce again looked at Diana and made the presumption, "I suppose I have you to thank for my present state?"

Diana tossed her hair in that way she did whenever she was about to get on her high horse. "You can thank yourself for allowing that villain to make a fool out of you last night… unless you are referring to my rescue, in which case, you owe me one now."

Bruce tried to sit up and winced in pain as he did so. Diana leaned over him and gently pushed him back down by the shoulders. "Now, now there big guy, let's not get over eager," Diana chastised her cranky looking ward. Then a look of genuine concern passed over her face as she simultaneously passed a hand over Bruce's forehead. "Oh Bruce, what did they do to you?" she asked rhetorically.

Bruce, not getting the intention of the question, chose to answer with, "They sprayed me with a chemical hallucinogen that left me effectively incapacitated. If you hadn't showed up when you did, there's no telling what would have happened to me."

"I don't like to think about what would have happened to you," Diana said as she quickly turned away a face that had grown increasingly grave. There was an awkward silence for a time before Diana finally heaved along sigh, stood up and paced over to the window. She turned the handles and flung the windows open to let in a rush of fresh, morning air. It still had the scent of last night's rain in it. A gentle breeze flowed into the room and made Diana's hair rustle gently against her shoulders as she stared out at the vast green landscape beyond the neatly manicured gardens of Wayne Manor to the miniature seeming Gotham City beyond. She placed her hands in the window sill and contemplated the world before her for a time. At length she spoke up and asked in earnest, "Honestly Bruce, what gave you the idea to go down there on your own and try to take down all those criminals by yourself?"

This time the frown on Bruce's face was one of guilt. "It was something I needed to prove to myself," he mumbled as he glowered at the floor, knowing it was impossible to tell her everything, even if he wanted to do so.

Diana curled her hands into fists. "What! What could you possibly be trying to prove to yourself?" she asked rather harshly as she suddenly spun around to catch the look on the face of the man she had rescued the night before as he answered for it.

Bruce could feel the muscles in his neck tighten as he struggled to find the appropriate response. He took a furtive gulp and responded, "I don't know… I think I just needed to see if I could do just as much to save this city without my money as I have tried to do with it."

Diana caught herself tapping her foot and forced it to rest. She crossed her arms as she reprimanded, "What gave you the idea that you needed to do that?" she demanded, keeping up her forceful tone. When Bruce looked up at her with an expression of pure uncertainty and gloom, however, Diana could feel her resolve melt away. This was a man who was tortured, she realized. How could she demand to know why he would try to take on those thugs last night when the answer was obvious, and yet, beyond her understanding? Bruce Wayne had watched his parent's get gunned down with his very eyes. She had no idea what kind of effect that might have on a person, but in that moment, Diana felt more pity for the man than she ever had before.

For his part, Bruce hated being pitied, and he could sense it starting to come over Diana. His jaw clenched in frustration just before he confirmed what Diana had been thinking. "I don't expect you to be able to understand," was his clipped response.

The Amazon felt her breathing grow shallow. The emotions inside her were starting to boil together and they were threatening to overflow; anger at Bruce's stupidity, pity for what he had to be going through and her inability to fully empathize with it, and the overwhelming urge to just rush over to the bed and hold him were tearing at her insides with enough ferocity to give her a slight feeling of dizziness.

She was rescued from this dilemma when both she and Bruce her the knob on the bedroom door start to jiggle. Taking advantage of Bruce's temporary glance at the door, Diana whirled around and leapt out of the window.

Bruce knew she had gone without having to look. He had pulled just the same move on Gordon countless times whenever someone sought to interrupt their planning sessions. So it was without apprehension that he greeted Alfred as he entered the room with a breakfast tray.

"Oh, I see you're already awake sir," the butler delighted chimed as he crossed the room and delivered the tray to Bruce who sat up painfully to receive it.

"Thanks Alfred, yes I am awake, fortunately. How long was I out?" Bruce asked meekly.

"About a dozen hours," Alfred answered dismissively. "A very good night's rest, I dare say. What really gave us a scare was how you just turned up on the door step, unconscious, with a few rather nasty chemicals running through your system, all before I had managed to get the car back to the house. Someday you'll have to tell me how you achieve these things."

Bruce grinned at his butler's persistent sense of humor. "There are some secrets I can't even tell you, I'm afraid," Bruce replied just before he ate an orange slice. As he chewed, however, he started to frown and he felt compelled to ask, "Wait a minute, who is this 'us' you talked about?"

"That would be me, Mr. Wayne," came the smooth baritone voice that could only belong to Lucius Fox, CEO of Wayne Enterprises. This was confirmed when the imposingly tall African American man in the tan blazer walked in carrying a briefcase.

"Lucius, how are you doing this morning?" Bruce asked, delighted to see his good friend and confidant again.

"To borrow a phrase from Alfred here, I dare say a lot better than you," Lucius quipped as he drew up alongside the bed and set his briefcase down on the nightstand and clicked it open. "You know me Mr. Wayne. I've always respected the confidential nature of your nocturnal wanderings, but something tells me that you've been hanging out in the wrong clubs."

"Something or Alfred?" Bruce asked as he gave his butler a playfully accusatory look.

"Well I just want you to know how hard it was to isolate the chemicals in your system and determine the antidote for it," Lucius said as he withdrew a long syringe from his briefcase and filled it with a clear liquid contained in a glass bottle he had set out on the night stand a moment earlier.

Bruce held out his hands in an innocent gesture. "Ah, you know how these things go Lucius. You're at a party, you've had a couple of drinks, somebody starts passing around a chemical hallucinogen…"

Lucius chuckled and answered, "Whatever the case may have been, I'm afraid I'm going to need you to give me your arm. This could hurt a little."


	6. Star Wars

Knight of Wonder

Act II

Scene 1: Star Wars

The color on the TV screen in the waiting room was slightly off. Colors blared in and out in neat ascending lines, and the broadcast showing the two old men on a stage appeared as grainy and faded as the days which they were recalling. They both spoke in high minded ways about hypothetical situations that they both liked to imagine happening but in reality, likely never would.

Clark looked on disinterestedly as the scene on the television played out in front of him. Next to the television, there was a small desk at which sat a young male staff member, puffing away on a cigarette as he violently leafed through pages of a newspaper every thirty seconds or so. The headline read "Sudden Afghan Earthquake Forces Soviet Withdrawal."

Clark returned his gaze to the television as one of the old men on the stage looked defiant as he said, "Senator, I served with Jack Kennedy. I knew Jack Kennedy. Jack Kennedy was a friend of mine. Senator, you're no Jack Kennedy." Clark raised an eyebrow at this while the staff member made a disgusted noise from behind his newspaper. The scene of the stage on the television was soon replaced with the picture of an attractive blonde commentating about that last remark in front of the large red letters of her news station.

After this, Clark found himself struggling to stay awake as his eyes started rolling around in his head. Just as he was about to unwittingly lose the struggle for lucidity, the door to the waiting room swung open forcefully. A neatly dressed man with slicked back hair and narrow facial features stepped through and fixed his eyes on Clark.

"Mr. Kent," the man said by way of snapping Clark more thoroughly out of his exhausted haze. "The President will see you now."

Clark nodded lazily as he stood up out of the chair he had been heavily slouched in. He reached down to straighten out the imperfections in his blazer and brushed a rebellious strand of hair back into place before approaching the doorway and the patiently waiting attendant. It was a quick walk down a hallway and soon Clark was being ushered into the Oval Office.

It was a sunny autumn day and the leaves on the trees of the grounds outside the windows were starting to turn to picturesque hues of orange and yellow. Seated at the Resolute Desk, his chair facing the scene of nature outside was the President who, upon hearing the commotion caused by Clark's entry to this inner sanctum, spun his chair around. He stood up as Clark approached and met his longtime collaborator with a warm, wrinkly smile and an outstretched, veiny hand. Clark met the handshake and was pleased to find the President's grip to still be as strong as ever.

"Clark, my boy, good to see you! Doing okay after your trip I trust?" the President greeted enthusiastically.

Clark smiled weakly as he answered, "To be honest sir, I'm afraid I'm still suffering from a bit of jetlag."

The President's expression grew muted at this statement and Clark returned the look with a small sense of unease. Suddenly both men burst out laughing and the President gestured to a multicolored glass jar on his desk, "Jellybean?" he phrased as a question.

Clark waved a hand dismissively as the President reached into the jar before looking up apologetically. He pointed to himself and asked in earnest, "You don't mind if I do, do you?"

"The way I see it, sir, they're your jellybeans," Clark pointed out.

"They're the people's jellybeans," The President half-jokingly corrected before popping a few of the brightly colored candies.

Clark sniffed at this to demonstrate his detection of humor. He gestured to the ornately carved chair next to himself and asked the President, "Well I hope you don't mind if I take a seat in the people's chair…"

The President smiled and answered, "Of course not! How careless of me."

"Think nothing of it," Clark soothed as he assumed the chair that sat directly across the desk from the President. While he easily forgave the President his omission of decorum, Clark couldn't help shaking the feeling in his inner most thoughts that the President had faded much more than the images of the other old men back on the waiting room television. Was this a simple lack of observance or yet another manifestation of the impending senility that was increasingly beginning to grip the President's mind? Clark couldn't convince himself either way.

The President resumed his chair as he said, "I suppose you know the reason why I've called you in here today."

Clark nodded in response and the President said on, "Son, you did a great job in Afghanistan. You stayed completely off the radar and the Russians were none the wiser to your presence there. I have assurances from my friends in the CIA that you've probably sped up the pace of the withdrawal by more than half. America owes you a debt that it can probably never repay."

Clark had to resist the urge to make a quip about the President's debt remark. After all, this man had been elected on the promise of reducing government debt, but a lot of dealing with politicians was knowing when to tactfully keep your mouth shut and when to make a clever joke. Clark had learned this the hard way in his years as the principal world nuclear deterrent.

"Unfortunately I have some bad news for you Clark," the President revealed as his tone grew suddenly very sober. The leader folded his hands over his desk and his eyes flitted between direct eye contact and the row of expensive looking fountain pens arranged neatly on his desk.

"What's wrong sir?" Clark asked in earnest.

The President let out a long sigh before sitting back in his chair. He rolled one of the fountain pens back and forth as he profiled himself and crossed his legs. "As you know, we're always in continuing negotiations with the Russians, and the new Premier is a good guy. A real reformer type. He's been very cooperative with us so far and I personally really appreciate that."

Clark scratched at his close cropped beard as he contemplated what the President was getting at. This made Clark realize that he hadn't shaved in a little while and that he probably should have considered it before going to meet the leader of the free world. Unfortunately the speed of his return from central Asia left no time for such mundane hygienic practices. "I'm afraid I don't follow," Clark spoke up. "Does this have something to do with Afghanistan?"

The President shook his head. "No I'm afraid not," he lamented. "Actually… it has more to do with you."

Clark raised his eyebrows in an expression of genuine surprise. "Me, sir? I thought you said that the extent of my services with the Defense Department were a well-guarded secret."

The President lifted his hand from the pen and waved for calm. "And it is, it is. I should be more clear. This has to do with you and your Super Friends more specifically."

"You mean the Justice League?" Clark clarified. "We pledge ourselves to defend humanity. We don't owe allegiance to any particular country."

The President held a hand to his chest and said apologetically, "I know, son, and if it were up to me, that would be enough. Unfortunately it's not." Upon seeing the confused look that Clark was giving him, the President continued. "Okay, so let's cut to the chase. Do you remember Star Wars?"

Clark frowned. "Somehow I get the feeling you're not referring to _The Return of the Jedi_."

"I wish I was," the President replied amused. "No, I'm talking about the Strategic Defense Initiative. You know, the one that Congress killed and your friend Mr. Wayne personally resurrected."

Clark was finally starting to put the pieces together. "The Russian Premier wants to know about the Watchtower? It was my understanding that we had settled this issue four years ago. The Watchtower's offensive capabilities are directed into space, against _external_ threats. The only thing we do with regard to Earth itself is monitor it for major crimes, natural disasters, that sort of thing. The United Nations passed a resolution expressing its trust in the Justice League with regard to doing so with humanity's best interest in mind."

"Fine, fine," the President consented, "But I'm afraid the Premier doesn't want to _know_ about the Watchtower. He wants it dismantled."

Clark could feel himself tense at this revelation. "Why would he want such a thing? Have you not been telling him what I just said."

"Yes of course," the President replied in that slippery way that seemed to hint that he hadn't. "There's just the sad coincidence that the Watchtower was originally conceived as a nuclear deterrent, and the Russians have never been able to see past that."

"You no longer needed a nuclear deterrent when you discovered me," Clark pointed out.

"Right you are," the President agreed, "And we're grateful, as I said, but that certainly won't change the Premier's mind. The simple fact is that the program was designed against his nation, and later funded with money from an American billionaire. Now, however noble the intentions of you, Bruce Wayne or any of your other friends, the Premier wants the Watchtower dismantled as a precondition to any unilateral nuclear disarmament. You do this for us and you'll make the world a safer place."

With all the Watchtower had allowed the league to do over the years, Clark somehow found that last remark a bit difficult to believe. Still, the prospect of a nuclear free world had been an ideal that Clark had fought for ever since he left Smallville. So he shifted his weight in a manifestation of his uncertainty and said, "Well, I can't personally promise to dismantle the Watchtower… but I suppose I can bring it up before a full session of the Justice League and see what they think."

"Excellent!" the President exclaimed. "You be sure and let your friends know what's at stake here now," he commanded.

"I will, Mr. President. Don't worry," said Clark.

"Great," the President smiled. "Well now that that's out of the way, have I ever told you of the time back when I was lifeguarding at…"

"Uh, Mr. President," a secret serviceman interrupted as he furtively leaned out from behind the Oval Office door.

The President cut himself off with a start before looking over at the secret serviceman and saying, "My goodness boy, you scared the living daylights out of me."

"Sorry sir," the boy said, looking tense. "Sir, I've been sent to tell you that they are ready for you in the situation room."

"Oh yes, I had quite forgotten. Uh, tell them I'll be there in a minute. I just need to finish up with my friend Clark."

The secret serviceman nodded and shut the door while the President looked sheepishly at Clark and said, "Well, 'they' need me in the situation room so…"

Clark smiled and said, "I understand completely."


	7. Democracy Inaction

Knight of Wonder

Act II

Scene 2: Democracy Inaction

The heights were always a little dizzying. At least, Diana found that no matter how many times she went up to the Watchtower, she always found the view from the engineering room viewport to be slightly sickening. There was Earth below, a delicate jewel suspended in the vast dark of space. One couldn't help but draw a comparison to the Watchtower and the League, a lone beacon of hope against a never ending sea of evil that lurked just out of view in the depths of space. And now, thanks to Lantern Stewart, Diana knew all too well the nature of the evil that was marshalling at the edges of space to unleash itself upon the shining world far below.

A state sized cloud formation slowly drifted into the Atlantic, revealing a view of the American East Coast. Diana glowered as she shoveled another spoonful of the oatmeal that was her first meal in over a day into her mouth. The sight of the American capital caused her thoughts to drift back to yesterday and her frustrated attempts to meet with the President.

She had arrived at the White House after making the three hour trip by ferry and car from Gotham City. Keeping up the appearance of normalcy, Diana had discovered in her time with the League, was key to keeping people calm. The delay caused by her conventional travel, however, meant that she did not arrive in Washington until late in the afternoon.

She stepped out of her car and walked up to the guard at the gate who let her in without much ceremony. Despite her rather common attire of a T-shirt, sweater and bellbottom jeans, the guards had seen her enough times in the company of the rest of the League to know to permit her. That, and the White House had been outfitted with all manner of special sensors that would detect via infrared, radiation, X-ray and other means if she was, in fact, some kind of shape shifter or imposter. One couldn't be too careful these days.

As she wound her way through the corridors of the White House, Diana soon found herself in the waiting room where a grumpy looking receptionist was determinately trying to focus his attentions on his newspaper and not on the analysis of the Vice Presidential debate playing out on the little TV in the corner. Sometimes Diana found the pettiness of men to be pathetic.

Just as she arrived, Clark was walking back into the waiting room from the hall that led to the Oval Office. "Clark!" she greeted. "I didn't think I would find you here. Did you meet the President?"

Clark nodded. "I did. He's in a chipper mood today, but I'm afraid you've just missed him. He was about to head to the situation room when I left."

"Oh," Diana deflated. "How did he look? Do you think he might have time to meet with me later?"

Clark shrugged. "I don't know Diana. I mean, he seemed to think it would be nothing but you never know with him these days. His aide certainly looked concerned enough. You can try waiting but you may not get to see him today. What did you want to see him about?"

"Important news from the Lantern Corps," Diana explained. "John asked me to let people know."

"Aren't you going to tell me?" Clark asked as he walked over to the receptionist's desk to sign himself out.

"I was planning on it," Diana said defensively. "I wanted to work my way down the chain of command first and as much as you might think it, you are not number one."

Clark brought himself up from the desk with his hands held up in a gesture of supplication. "Sorry, I didn't mean to suggest that you should have come to me first. It's just that John is my friend too. I just want to know what he thought was so important that he needed to send you to speak with the President. Ah, but it'll be okay I guess. I'm holding a meeting of the full Justice League minus Green Lantern and Batman tomorrow morning. You can tell everyone about it then if that's okay."

As Clark finished speaking, Diana couldn't help but notice his warm, country boy smile that the American populace found so appealing. It was almost like Clark was carved from some schoolboy image of what the ideal American male should be and then given life. In a way, Diana found this a little disturbing, especially since she had never really considered herself to be nearly as flawless of an example of a woman.

"Yes, I suppose that will do just fine," Diana agreed. "It will be better than having to chase everyone down. Still, does it have to be at the Watchtower? You know how much I hate going all the way up there."

Clark gave her an apologetic look and started for the door. "I'm afraid it has to be there. It concerns the Watchtower directly." As Clark reached the exit, he turned back and directed, "And attendance is mandatory Diana. Don't go pulling any stunts like Batman to get out of this." With that, Clark swung himself out the door and into the hall beyond.

Diana shook her head slowly as she walked over to the desk and signed the name "Diana Prince" into the meeting register. As she did so, she heard the receptionist mutter to her from behind his newspaper, "So that was the big man himself huh. He seems like a bit of a hard ass."

As Diana stood up from the desk, she thought a moment before responding, "He can certainly be… pretentious at times," before she went over to take a seat and watch the men on the television try to out ego each other.

There Diana had sat for hour after hour, until the sun started to set and she decided to give up. Now Diana sat glumly in the engineering room of the Watchtower, her back to the rotating wall that constantly spun around and around to give the Watchtower its artificial gravity. She had to admit that she still felt a little snubbed, especially since the President would always go out of his way to accommodate perfect Mr. Clark Kent. So she had brought her oatmeal all the way down to the engineering room in order to get some solitude. Clark might have had the President and a polar ice fortress, but at least Diana could have her oatmeal and the engineering room.

In the middle of her brooding, however, Barry poked his bright blond haired head through the porthole and said in his sing song voice, "Meeting is about to start. Better get topside!" before he zipped off to the next part of the station.

Diana let her spoon clatter down into her bowl as she let out a frustrated sigh. It had been a trying twenty-four hours. Then she tossed the bowl aside and it went spinning an abnormally distant way before it clattered down at the end of the nearby table. The low gravity in the space station could be a constant hazard.

After drifting through the portal out of the room and down the succeeding hallway, making occasional stops to launch herself back into the air with her foot, Diana came to the entrance to the conference room. Like most of the rest of the rooms on the Watchtower, the walls of the conference room were lined with white padding and recessed lights that gave the rather small space dominated by the oval conference table in its center a rather daytime-esque feel. This was by design, however, since there were certainly times when the cold darkness of space could certainly feel particularly depressing. Sticking out at intervals along the walls were various flat screens that showed status reports on various disasters and emergencies around the world so the League would not be entirely disconnected from events that might require their attention while it was distracted in conferences.

It wasn't long before the rest of the members of the League showed up. Diana took a seat near the back of the room and turned her head to see Barry sitting at the other end of the table where an empty chair had been literally less than a second ago. He was followed by the ethereal form of the Martian which drifted through the far wall before becoming solid mass again to take a seat near Diana. Finally, the haggard looking form of Clark came slinking around the corner to take a seat at the head of the table. He was looking thin, Diana remarked in her own thoughts, with the bags under his eyes and the increasing length of the beard on his face giving evidence to the probability that he had been spending too many consecutive hours trying to tend to all the world's ills. Diana wished he wouldn't feel like that welfare of the earth was his responsibility, but at a certain point, his unique ability to deal with its most severe problems was undeniable.

"Is this everyone?" Clark asked to the assembled League members.

"I'm afraid so," the Martian answered. "John Stewart is at New Genesis right now in an important meeting with High Father."

Diana crossed her arms expectantly. She realized right then just how in the dark the rest of the league was to John's news.

"What about Batman?" Clark asked. "Why isn't he here?"

"Why isn't he ever?" J'ohnn quipped to a laugh from Barry. "He refused to come."

Clark looked especially irked by this news. Bruce's refusal to attend to routine League business was ever the source of frustration in him. He could make the whole world bend to his will except for the Dark Knight and perhaps, Diana assumed, this was a source of pleasure for Bruce. It also didn't help that Clark insisted on calling him Batman. He hated being called that.

"I'm afraid Bruce is not quite feeling himself today," Diana explained to the group. "He had a nasty run it with a Gotham street gang that left him a little worse off than normal. He sends his regrets about being unable to attend."

The skeptical look on Clark's face just about clearly indicated that he did not believe that Bruce regretted being unable to attend for a second, but Clark refrained from his usual snide remark about the situation in favor of, "Well if that's everyone then I guess we'll get started. I've called you all here today to discuss a matter of great importance. I just got through meeting with the President of the United States yesterday and he said that his negotiations with the Russian premier have hit a snag… over us."

Barry let out a annoyed sounding "psh!" before asking, "What the heck do they want this time?"

Clark took a big, audible gulp before saying, "They want us to decommission the Watchtower."

Barry's eyes went wide. "What?" he almost shouted. "They can't make us do that? Why would they even want to? Our group has done work in both countries! I thought the point of those negotiations was to make the world safer."

"I feel inclined to agree with Flash on this one," the Martian said in his low drone. "This kind of action would presage a world markedly less safe."

"Hear me out fellas," Clark insisted. "I think this might be a decent proposal. I think the solution for us is in the Fortress of Solitude."

Barry looked suddenly intrigued. "What, you saying you're going to move us in there? It's a little chilly there isn't it?"

Clark cracked a smile. "You know, I can't deny that it does get a little cold at times, but think of the benefit. By our decision to put up with that cold, we can help rid the world of a very different kind of cold: the cold war."

"What, exactly, is the offer on the table?" the Martian asked.

"The Russians dislike having a space station originally built to defend against them still floating around in the sky. We take it down and they'll agree to wholesale nuclear disarmament."

J'ohnn cocked an eyebrow at this prospect, a visible gesture which, given his otherwise stoical nature, belied an intense interest on the part of the Martian. "Now that is interesting," he admitted.

"You got that right," Barry agreed. "Did they say what kind of timeline they wanted?"

Clark shook his head. "No but I got assurances from the President's office that we would be receiving one in the next few days."

Diana could see the resistance to the idea in the minds of Barry and J'ohnn start to melt away. It was with no lack of a sense of duty, then, that Diana answered Clark when he called for her opinion next.

"What do you have to say about this Diana?" he asked. "You've been silent during this entire discussion and I'd prefer to be fair and gauge the temperature of the whole group."

"Well thanks to absences that's already an impossible task, even for you I dare say," Diana almost spat back. She figured she sounded particularly like Bruce in that particular moment, and perhaps not without justification. Knowing what she knew in that moment, Clark's proposal was almost enough to make Diana feel sick, and this time she was pretty sure it had nothing to do with the rotating of the station's artificial gravity generators. In a way, Diana fancied she was finally being able to get a sense of Bruce's intense dislike of Clark and the superman's blind adherence to ideology and the directive of his superiors.

Ignoring the surprised look on Clark's face, Diana leaned over the table and reminded the group, "Be that as it may, I have news that each of you needs to hear. Lantern Stewart arrived in Themyscira not too long ago with urgent news regarding Darkseid. Observations from Oa have revealed that he is amassing a vast fleet near his base of Apokolips. It is a fleet created for a single purpose… to destroy the home of Kal-El."

Diana's gaze burned into Clark as he sat back in his seat and digested this new piece of information. At length, he seemed to regain his composure. He sat back up in his chair and said, "Okay, that's news to me. Still, now that we know about this threat, we can go over how to deal with it in our next discussion. Right now we need to focus on the issue at hand. External threats should not be allowed to dictate the path to world peace, however dire they might be. If we abandon our principles in the face of external threats, then we have already lost that which we are trying to defend."

"Sage words as ever," Diana admitted, "However if we also abandon our defenses in the face of external threats, then we won't even be in a position to defend anything!"

"We are _not_ here to discuss battle tactics!" Clark yelled as he stood up from his chair and made a sweeping gesture. "We are here to discuss what I think is a fair trade: an end to nuclear standoff for the dismantling of the Watchtower. Now my vote is that we take this deal and work on the Darkseid issue separately. Who's with me?"

For a moment, there was nothing but stunned silence. Then, slowly and not without a sense of hesitation, J'ohnn raised his hand. Barry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes darting back and forth between Clark and Diana. At length, he bellowed, "Ah screw it!" and he thrust his hand into the air.

"Very Well," Clark acknowledged, his voice growing low, "Meeting adjourned."


	8. A New Accord

Knight of Wonder

Act II

Scene 3: A New Accord

The spires of New Genesis glittered in the white light of the nearby dwarf star that hung high in the sky. There was a time when John Stewart would have stopped to marvel at the impressiveness of the sight. On this particular day, however, he could stop his progress for nothing.

The enormous domed palace of the leaders of the New Gods loomed larger in his vision until the green plinth he was crouching on brought him down gently in front of the austere building. As the plinth vanished back inside his ring, John brought himself up to full height while the wealthy and influential citizens of New Genesis looked at him with a mixture of awe and suspicion. Their whispers were not entirely inaudible. The talk ranged anywhere from inquiries as to what a member of the Lantern Corps was doing all the way out here on New Genesis to wonder at the change is skin color of the human Lantern. Comments like these used to be a source of extreme irritation for John. After a keen explanation from Clark on the subject, however, John had come to the realization that the citizens of New Genesis literally had never seen a black man before. Still, that did little to get him out from beneath the shadow of Hal Jordan.

As he approached, John was relieved to see that the guards recognized him as they swung the massive stone doors of the dome open with an almost supernatural seeming strength. It all looked impressive, John knew, but it was nothing but the lower gravity of the planet that allowed them to perform such heroic seeming feats of strength. The same was true on Earth with Clark's ability to "fly."

John walked briskly and with purpose as the statues of the various New Gods drifted through his peripheral vision. The many sumptuously dressed movers and shakers of the New Genesis leadership parted ways as the unstoppable force of John's stride carved a swath through them until John reached the audience chamber, a massive circular room filled with light from opening in the ceiling. The grand throne at the far end marked High Father's seat of judgment, and judgmental he looked as he sat there, a fist buried in one cheek and his other hand twirled an end of his long, forked, white beard. A counselor was whispering in his ear but quickly broke off upon noticing John's entry.

"Lantern Stewart, this is an unexpected honor!" High Father greeted in his deep, booming voice which echoed around the halls magisterially.

"Cut the crap, Santa Claus," John spat back in his equally deep but noticeably lower tone. "I'm here about the man you saw fit to trade sons with."

"Darkseid? What's he done now?" High Father asked, sounding oddly coy.

"Don't play stupid with me. The Lantern Corps sees more than you think. For instance, we know all about Darkseid's fleet buildup and the deployments they've made in the direction of Earth. In fact, with your proximity to Apokolips, you should have been the first to notice this! Why did we not receive warning about this?"

High Father's face grew suddenly grave. He waved his counselor away and the counselor obliged, giving a deep bow before he vanished behind one of the many doors in the hall. "I'm afraid I don't like your tone, young man," High Father sternly warned. "What are you implying?"

"I am implying nothing," John backed off. "New Genesis and Apokolips are celestial neighbors. There's nothing Darkseid can do over there that you guys won't already know about way before us. Oa, on the other hand, is millions of miles away from you two. So I just want to know how it is that Darkseid had to go zipping his ships across our observable space for us to find out about this instead of receiving advanced warning about it per our agreement."

High Father finally stopped twiddling his beard and leaned forward on his throne, ostensibly to look down upon his underling. Then he heaved a great sigh and said, "John, my boy, I'm afraid there is a new agreement in place."

John raised an eyebrow. "And what new agreement would that be?"

High Father sat back in his chair as the doors around the hall echoed as they banged open. Out of them came the liveried guards of New Genesis, resplendent in their golden battle helms, spiked armor and flowing purple capes. "You are right to point out that Apokolips is our neighbor," High Father allowed. "The problem with that, you see, is that we are the first target that Darkseid considers when contemplating an attack after he has rebuilt his forces. Now you can see what a difficult position that puts me in as leader of New Genesis. It is my duty to guarantee my people's safety after all, so I decided to craft a new accord to that end."

John watching unflinchingly as the guards surrounded him. On the inside, however, he could feel a sense of panic starting to creep in. There were too many for him to take on his own. Coming here alone was a mistake. "And just what was in this new accord that could guarantee that Darkseid would leave you alone?" John asked calmly.

"I think the right question to ask, in our particular case, was rather, where else could we focus Darkseid's attention? What target could he possibly value as much as New Genesis?"

The implications of High Father's words were immediate. The only person Darkseid hated more than High Father and the New Gods was almost certainly the one man who had repeatedly frustrated his ambitions over the years: Kal-El. It was with this in mind that John grudgingly answered High Father with, "You're talking about Earth." High Father nodded and John was forced to ask skeptically, "So you forged a new agreement where instead of fighting your enemy you would team up with him to take down one of your staunchest allies?"

"No, Lantern Stewart, we forged a new agreement where Darkseid would spare New Genesis and march on Earth, and in return, New Genesis would do… nothing."

"Nothing?" John repeated. "Well I'm afraid I can't do nothing when it comes to the defense of my home planet!"

"I understand that, Lantern Stewart, I really do," High Father said with genuine lament in his voice. "But you must try to see it from my point of view. I'm sorry that it had to work out this way, but for our safety's sake, this is how it must be."

"Oh, I understand alright!" John roared. "I understand you sold us down the river for political expediency and mark my words, it's only a matter time before, oof!" John's words were cut off by a swift strike to the gut from the lance of one of the guardsmen.

More followed and the resulting beating forced John to the ground as High Father said, "Perhaps you're right Lantern Stewart, but we've bought ourselves time against our foe, and while he grows weak fighting Earth, we shall grow strong. Strong enough to defy Darkseid should he turn and set his sights on New Genesis. Until such a day as that, however, you can see why I cannot realistically allow you to leave New Genesis to spread word of this accord."

John had just enough time to look up and yell, "You traitor!" before another lance strike forced him back down. After sufficiently beating him down, the guards grabbed John by the shoulders and lifted him to his knees in order to drag him off, presumably to the dungeons.

"Take heart, Lantern Stewart, your imprisonment will not be forever. While the destruction of your planet is lamentable, you may yet come to see that we do this for the greater good," High Father suggested.

As he was dragged into the dark passage leading to the dungeons, all Green Lantern John Stewart could do was roar in defiance.


	9. Paradigm City

Knight of Wonder

Act II

Scene 4: Paradigm City

The flickering neon screen of the computer was enough to thoroughly dry out Bruce's eyes as he struggled through a haze of fatigue to discern clues in the data. He had been staring at the lights long enough that the rest of the Batcave around him was basically invisible behind the impenetrable veil of darkness. The pattern of crimes committed by Red Hood and his gang were scattered throughout the various boroughs of Gotham like someone had sprayed the map with scattershot. It made the overall plan of the group very difficult to determine. The really intriguing part of it all was that most of the crimes were against other criminals. Yes there were the various altercations with the rival Black Mask gang, but then there were all the known muggers, rapists, fraudsters and corrupt city officials that had either been found murdered or brought to an otherwise unseemly end. Rare was the attack on someone who was not part of the criminal element. Then again, Bruce thought to himself glibly, it really seemed like there were few in Gotham these days who didn't have some kind of connection to the criminal underground.

He set his glasses down and stood up for a stretch. Then he let out a long, exasperated breath as he rubbed his eyes. Maybe Alfred was right and he had been pushing himself too hard, but with Barbra still recovering in Gotham General, it was hard to justify any sleep that was not induced.

Then with little warning, Bruce heard a familiar sounding whoosh behind him. "If you came here for an apology for my absence from the meeting the other day, then I'm afraid you're wasting your time as always," Bruce mumbled.

"You _should_ be apologizing," came a distinctly low feminine voice out of the background.

Bruce stopped rubbing his eyes, looked up with a confused expression and turned around to see the shapely figure of Diana standing just inside the light thrown by the computer screen. Bruce gave a low moan and admitted, "Sorry, I thought you were Clark."

Diana swished her long brown hair back behind the shoulders of her sheep sweater. "Well at least you can apologize for something. You're lucky I'm not Clark, seeing as how he's on the war path right now."

"Isn't he always?" Bruce asked with a barely detectable hint of bile in his voice.

"Not like this," Diana pointed out as she took a few steps in Bruce's direction. "It's almost like he's possessed. I've never seen him so unwilling to listen to reason."

"I have," Bruce declared as he approached the keyboard of the computer and began typing away at a lightning pace. "You weren't around when we first ran into each other. Back then he practically thought he was a god."

Swinging herself into the computer chair next to Bruce, Diana kicked off her moccasin shoes and stuck her feet underneath Bruce's shirt to warm them up. She knew it had to be a particularly unsettling sensation for him, but he didn't even so much as flinch from his typing when she did this. Sometimes he could try to look so macho that it bordered on ridiculous in Diana's opinion. Since he clearly wasn't going to say anything else, Diana decided to venture further, "I've heard all about how you and he tore down about half of Metropolis on your first outing together. The fact is, when faced with a greater foe, you two decided to set aside your differences and work together. A lesson the rest of mankind would do well to learn, but right now, mankind seems bent on setting aside their differences by setting aside the Justice League, and Clark seems perfectly willing to help them to do it."

For his part, Bruce tolerated the stabbing cold of Diana's feet with barely contained agony. He only just had enough self-control to focus on his task and respond, "Now that _is_ unlike him. He was the one who wanted the League so badly in the first place."

"Yes well, apparently the Russians and the Americans have demanded that the Watchtower be dismantled as part of any long term peace agreement, and Clark seems perfectly willing to oblige."

"There you have it," Bruce said. "If there is one force on Earth strong enough to persuade Clark off his God given course, it's that old man in the White House. I'm afraid if you want to tell him otherwise then you've got a tall order. He feels so sorry for that man that he'll do anything he says, no matter how unreasonable."

"I think I found that out the hard way at that meeting you failed to attend," Diana pointed out. "Aren't you worried about what the consequences of such an action will be?"

"I'm sorry to see the Watchtower go, if that's what you're asking," Bruce allowed. "I poured a lot of Wayne Tech. R&D into that orbiting monstrosity."

Diana scrunched her face into an intense frown. It seemed as though no one was willing to listen to her, and if they wouldn't do so willingly, she was beginning to wonder if she was going to have to make them. Bruce could be so self-absorbed and pig headed sometimes. It was the one part of him that didn't drive her crazy in a good way. "Well there's another problem that John warned me about that we might need the Watchtower for…"

"I got it!" Bruce interjected.

"Got what?" Diana asked with as much patience as she could muster.

"The location of Red Hood's next strike. All the data points to Lexcorps' Gotham office on Founder's Island. If I can get there before him and his gang, I might be able to put an end to this war once and for all."

"Bruce have you been listening to me at all?" Diana demanded somewhat forcefully. "You always cut me off to speak your own mind instead of letting me finish my point!"

Bruce turned to her with an apologetic look in his eyes. "I'm sorry Diana but if I don't see to this right away then there may not be another chance."

"No!" Diana declared as she leapt up from the chair and slammed a hand down on the computer keyboard. She watched as Bruce backed up with a start. Diana advanced to within inches of his face, a space she had dreamt of occupying more times than she would care to admit, and delivered a swift rebuke. "I didn't want to have to say this Bruce, but you are acting irrational. I know the loss of your friends in recent weeks has left you emotionally vulnerable, but I thought we had an understanding after your encounter with that Red Hood that you were in over your head and that you were going to back off for a while. You can't go rushing off into the night on your one man crusade to save your city without being able to see the bigger picture, and I hate to say it Bruce but your vision is clouded right now."

Bruce looked into Diana's eyes for a long time before responding. The fire that was behind her look was unmistakable. It was a fire that he hadn't failed to notice a few times before; a fire of deep concern. Yet his path was clear. This was the first time in weeks that the data had finally made sense and he had a viable lead on the criminal enterprise raining terror on the city of his youth. It was with this in mind that he finally said, "You might think so, but I've spent more time on this project than you know. I've calculated the risks and even if I hadn't, I'd still be going in anyway. I have a responsibility to Gotham. If I don't step up to save the city, there's no one who will. I don't expect you to understand."

With that, Bruce brushed passed Diana and walked over to the metallic walkway and took a slow pace as a series of robotic arms ascended from beneath the floor and began fixing the armor on his body.

By the time he was fully armored up and about to jump into the car, Diana decided to get one last word in. "Just make sure you know who you are as a man, before you let the Batman consume what little remains of that person."

Bruce spun around for one last look at Diana. She was looking particularly good tonight, like she had spent some time making herself look nice before coming over; something she never really did on any other occasion. Her hair was down and there were small hints of makeup on her face which was a practice she mostly shunned as decadent and unnecessary. Cleary she had gone to some lengths to impress him and he grudgingly had to admit that, makeup or no, he was touched by her efforts. So instead of a typically bitter response, he simply shook his head and asked rhetorically, "Batman… why couldn't I make The Dark Knight stick?" before jumping into the car and speeding off in a rocket boosted blaze. As he sped out over the ramp and through the water fall leading to the outside world, Bruce had just enough time to look back through the rearview camera to catch the look of supreme consternation on Diana's face. "She'll be alright" he mumbled to himself just before the car landed on the road with a bone rattling thud.

Some fifteen minutes later and Bruce was perched on the ledge of the skyscraper adjacent to the spire of pure glass that was the Lexcorp tower. The windows of the tower shimmered in the florescent lighting that basically turned Founder's Island into a massive nighttime disco ball. The blues and greens of various advertisements reflected off the clusters of the neighboring skyscrapers as a couple of blimps hummed away, hovering unobtrusively overhead. The massive logo of the Lexcorp building glowed a dull yellow for its part, which made for a rather humble contrast to the blazing neon blue logo of the much taller Wayne Tower just off in the distance.

Bruce looked intently through his binoculars, scanning the various floors of the Lexcorp building, cube maze after cube maze, looking for any sign of a disturbance. It wasn't long before his patience was rewarded with the glint of a flashlight and the large black shapes of hooded figures traversing their way up the building, no doubt on their way to the safe in the corporate executive office.

After stowing his binoculars back in his utility belt, Bruce fired a grappling hook to a nearby building and hoisted himself up above the Lexcorp building so he could descend to the rooftop for a stealthier entrance. Gone were the days of dramatic crashes through building windows. Gotham P.D. had started to ask to many questions in that regard.

When he finally reached the floor that the members of Red Hood's gang were on, he immediately set to work. One man he managed to take down easily by clocking him over the head with a desk lamp borrowed from a nearby cubical. Another man went down when he decided it was a good idea to start going through the drawers of a desk in the corner office. Bruce simply swept in and silently shut the door. There was a moment where the man looked up and noticed that the door was shut, but by that point Bruce was already standing behind him. Bruce delivered a swift chop to the man's neck and he went over limp. Bruce then exited the office and tried to sneak up on another target but the woman turned around at an inopportune time and he had to through his cape over her to muffle the noise as he delivered a swift head but that sent her sprawling to the ground unconscious.

A couple more of Red Hood's gang went down in similar fashion as Bruce worked his way in a tightening circle around the room, circling like bird of prey around the executive office where the ring leaders were probably still busy cracking the safe. Bruce lamented the sorry state to which gang members and cult followers had declined to these days. They used to be so much more vigilant and combative, and the lack of both left Bruce a little concerned that he was growing complacent and that perhaps he didn't quite measure up to the brand of his younger, more inexperienced self.

After taking out the last of the group, he rounded the corner and glided into the executive office. He stood up since he was immediately spotted by an expectant looking Red Hood, flanked by two more of his men and a safe cracker toiling away behind him. One of the men flanking Red Hood flipped in the lights and Bruce had to squint a little while his eyes adjusted.

"Ah, Dark Knight, how good of you to join us. I was afraid that maybe you had had enough after our last encounter," Red Hood taunted.

"Drop the game, Red Hood. It's over," Bruce said in the intimidating, gravelly voice of his alter ego.

"Oh no, Dark Knight, I'm afraid it's only just begun," Red Hood teased as he motioned the safe cracker back to his side. Then he pulled a remote out of the baggy cargo pants he was wearing and pressed a button. The safe behind him detonated with a deafening blast that sent debris reigning down and Bruce's quickly outstretched cape. When he drew the cape back, he was surprised to see Red Hood's henchman rushing at him. Bruce reacted instantaneously by ducking low and flipping one of the men over his head and sending him flying through the nearby window to crash down on a car a couple stories below. Bruce took a swing at the next man which was blocked, but Bruce quickly brought his other fist to the man's face and sent him stumbling backward. Then Bruce squared off against the last man and a few quick strikes later he had brought him to the ground as well.

By the time all this had been accomplished, Red Hood was standing near the man sized hole in the window that Bruce had created moments before. Red Hood had a bag slung around his shoulder and a grappling gun in his other hand. "An excellent display as always, Dark Knight, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut this short."

Bruce was about to react when he took another look at the grapping gun in Red Hood's hand. Then it dawned on him that it was exactly like the one that he had. "Where did you get that?" Bruce asked as he pointed to the grappling gun in question.

Red Hood clucked his tongue as he shook his hooded head. "Honestly Bruce, you still haven't figured it out? Maybe what they were saying about you was right after all and you have lost your touch."

"Figured what out? What are you talking about?" Bruce said as he took a few steps toward Red Hood.

The gangster sighed audibly and asked rhetorically, "Shall I spell it out for you?" Then he stowed the grapping gun back on his belt, reached up and pulled off his hood to reveal a man with dark hair and a youthful complexion. He was actually quite good looking, with angular facial features that were unmarred except for the squiggle of a burn scar on his left cheek that Bruce quickly realized was the letter "J."

Bruce could feel his jaw grow slack as he struggled to form the name that he knew all too well went with that face. "Jason," he almost wheezed. "But how?" The look on Jason Todd's face was filled with mischief. The same look Bruce had dreaded when Jason was a boy at Wayne Manor, only now he was filled with a very different kind of dread.

"Another story for another time, Bruce. I'm afraid it's bye for now." And with that, Jason reached back for the grappling gun, fired off a new line and went speeding into the night, leaving the devastated Bruce Wayne to fall to his knees in the middle of the office and attempt to comprehend this new paradigm.

* * *

2 Chapters this week! Please leave comments! I love hearing from you guys :)


	10. Red and Black

Knight of Wonder

Act II

Scene 5: Red and Black

David Thompson entered the gymnasium through the side entrance as prearranged. In all his years as a professional diplomat, having negotiated high stakes trade deals with Arabian princes and conflict resolutions with African warlords, David had never been quite as nervous for a meeting as he was for this one. The first issue was that he no longer had the protection of the U.S. State Department. He was acting as a hired mediator on behalf of Gotham City Hall. His office included one jaded police detective and one naïve young intern who thought that the whole world still played by the high minded ideals of her private school world.

David knew better. Having come out of one particular God forsaken Metropolis neighborhood in the mid 1970's, David had grown up in an atmosphere of gangs, drugs, and racially motivated violence. Unlike a lot of fatherless African American youth he had grown up with, David had actually never known his mother who had died from a drug overdose before he was old enough to remember her face, try as he might. Now, as he crossed the boards of the basketball court to the center of the room, David was reminded eerily of that youth. In a way, it was what made him uniquely qualified for this job. It was the perfect marriage of his past and his present. The only thing left was to successfully mediate the coming discussion. He didn't have to get the two parties to shake hands. He just had to get them to unclench their fists.

It wasn't long before the double doors on David's left clicked open as an enormous, well-muscled man held the door open for his much smaller boss. Black Mask lived up to his legend in almost every way. His imposing African features were obscured by Hispanic style face paint that gave him the appearance of a great, grinning skull. His pinstripe suit was nicer than David's bland gray, but Black Mask did have one drawback to his character that David did not expect. He was quite a bit shorter in person than he expected. In fact, David figured he was probably a good head length taller than the infamous gang leader as he entered the gym flanked by hired muscle. It left David wondering how someone so small had managed to command the loyalty of such a large criminal enterprise. It certainly defied convention, but given Black Mask's reputation for macabre acts of violence, the questions of his ability to command suddenly had answers that were likely the type that David didn't want to know.

Just as Black Mask crossed to the center of the room with his men, he fixed David with his thousand yard stare and said in his low, scratchy voice, "Good morning David."

"Good morning," David responded in a tone that, despite being rather neutral, seemed almost too cheerful given the nature of present company. It was then that David decided to keep pleasantries to a minimum.

A moment later and the double doors on the right clicked open and flung out forcefully to reveal Red Hood and his men, dressed in the black and red of their gang's color's. Red Hood walked with a great deal of poise and youthful energy as he quickly crossed to the center of the room. He stopped a few feet from David and, without looking at him, said, "Alright I'm here. Let's get this over with."

David let out a small sigh as he cast a brief glance up at the rafters of the gymnasium. They were brilliantly illuminated by the morning sunlight that was pouring in from outside and David, ever the God fearing man, whispered a short prayer before turning his attention to the task at hand. "Gentlemen," he opened. "I have invited the two of you here this morning to talk."

"Talk about what?" Black Mask cut in sharply. "And with who? With him?" he gestured at Red Hood. "What topic could we possibly have to talk about?"

Despite his many years in service abroad, David was surprised to find that he was having trouble placing Black Mask's accent. He wanted to think that it was Rhodesian, but with slight hints of Australian? Either way, it was too difficult to tell, so he just moved on. "You men are not here to talk to each other," he said firmly. "You are both here to talk to me."

"And what makes you so great eh? What do you have to say that could possibly be so important?" Black Mask inquired urgently. He definitely was starting to exude a sense that his time was being wasted.

"It is what you men might have to say to me. I am simply here as a means of arbitration so that the two of you can bring your conflict to a mutually beneficial resolution."

"I'm afraid you're going to have to put that in a language that my men can understand," Red Hood spoke up cuttingly.

"Okay, how about the language of peace," David countered wittily.

Black Mask shook his highly decorated head. "Man, I speak four languages, but I'm afraid _peace_ isn't one of them."

Red Hood made a snorting noise. "Yeah, you only speak in guns, drugs, hookers and money."

The look on Black Mask's face went from zero to one hundred in less than a second; a look amplified by his face paint to an unsettling degree. "You are unfair," he said in deadly earnest.

David held out his hands and said, "Gentlemen, what is unfair is what you're doing to the innocent people of this city; the poor bystanders who have nothing to do with your war or anything it entails."

"Everyone in this city is connected to our war in some way," Red Hood differed. "This is going to be a short negotiation if you think otherwise."

"At last, I agree with my rival here," Black Mask said with a wide, sparkling smile. "There's no incentive you could offer us that will make us consider setting aside our guns."

"I'm not asking you to set aside your guns. I'm only asking that you stop pointing them at each other," David revealed.

This latest comment seemed to peak Black Mask's interest and, David guessed, the interest of Red Hood too, although his reaction was impossible to discern through his signature cranial covering. Still, he didn't have any witty response which was a good sign. At least, David hoped it was.

"So who would you have me point my guns at instead of my red robed friend?" Black Mask asked with another gesture at Red Hood.

"Ideally nobody," David said with a hopeless smile. "But I'm not that naïve. We all know that's not going to happen. So instead I'm asking you to point them at whoever threatens your enterprises."

Black Mask let out a short laugh. He pointed at Red Hood and declared "Right now that's him!"

"Yeah, and the entire purpose of my enterprise is to destroy his so right now, the biggest threat to that is you," Red Hood said to the negotiator.

"Fair enough," David admitted, "But why decide to take down Black Mask's organization in the first place? What was so wrong with it that you decided to launch this war?"

"Black Mask is a cancer on this city," Red Hood spat. "He always has been. His drugs infect the youth, his guns kill my men, and his money buys off the police. No one else is going to stand up to him, so as a capable individual, it is my duty to oppose him."

"Yes, his guns do kill your men," David acknowledged. "But what if they killed no men? Have you ever stopped to consider that perhaps without your men to stand in their way, his guns might kill no men?"

"Guns kill, and Black Mask's kill more than usual. That's enough for me," Red Hood declared.

David turned his attention to Black Mask. "What if Black Mask stopped his gun trade entirely? Would that make a difference?"

"Hey, hey, don't put words in my mouth man!" Black Mask backed off. "I won't make any such promise just to get some ghetto punk off my back."

David knew he was making progress now. Black Mask wanted Red Hood gone by a lot more than he was letting on. All he had to do was press this line to its logical conclusion. He turned to Red Hood and asked, "Would you be willing to stop the killing if Black Mask gave up his gun trade?"

Red Hood and David both knew that Black Mask's illicit arms deals were a large chunk of his revenue and without it his organization would be significantly diminished. After a moment's hesitation, Red Hood nodded.

Black Mask let out a sharp hiss. "And how am I supposed to make up the loss of funds from my arms deals? After all, call it what you want but I consider what I do to be a business, and you're asking me to cancel one of my biggest product lines and for what? So some Red Hooded punk will back off my men? I'd rather just destroy him and go on doing what I do without interruption."

David was about to explain the benefit of Red Hood's men backing off when Red Hood himself cut in and, seemingly having read David's mind, explained the benefit for him. "With fewer guns on the streets and a truce between my men and yours, you would have free reign to expand your drug sales; a trade with bigger profit margins."

"Hmm, it wouldn't be enough to make up the loss of revenue from the guns," Black Mask said grudgingly, although the very fact he was considering this hypothetical this far was a fantastic sign.

"And the expansion of the drug trade on Gotham's streets runs counter to what my organization stands for," Red Hood said before both he and Black Mask turned their attention back to David.

"But drugs aren't necessarily lethal," David pointed out. "Guns are far more efficient killers. Might Red Hood be willing to accept the lesser of two evils in order to end the even greater evil brought about by your conflict?"

Red Hood shifted his weight and at length responded tersely, "Perhaps."

David turned to Black Mask and asked, "And would Black Mask be willing to accept a small loss in profit in order to have an unopposed business?"

"I would rather just destroy any costumed jackass that tries to stand in my way," Black Mask said with audible frustration. Then he let out a long, frustrated sigh and conceded, "But I can't deny that life would be easier without this war. Still, even if we do this deal, which I haven't agreed to mind, no one can know about it. The second people find out that Black Mask made a concession to some random self-righteous nobody it becomes a slippery slope. They learn that defiance is rewarded and if this deal is to be beneficial to me at all, they must still fear Black Mask as much as ever."

"We can keep the details of this agreement confidential," David agreed, "But I think we at last have a framework for peace here gentlemen."

Then without warning, there was a loud bang followed by a crashing noise and the sound of breaking glass. David was forced to cover his mouth with his shirt sleeve as smoke poured into the room. Then came the most ominous sound of all; a slow, low pitched laughing noise that echoed around the walls of the gymnasium.

Out of the smoke stepped a girl in fishnet stockings, a short skirt, and a tight fitting t-shirt with green cursive letters reading "Daddy's Little Monster." The wild hair, white makeup and deadly stare all combined to silence any doubt that this was Harley Quinn, and her equally maniacal, purple suited boyfriend The Joker soon followed her out of the fog.

"Now isn't this lovely," The Joker mused as his head swiveled around to look at the men assembled at center court. "I'm gone for a few weeks and suddenly all the kids are getting along, making up and playing nice. I'm _so_ …. Offended." Joker advanced a few steps towards David, Black Mask and Red Hood. "Seriously you guys! Was I the only one holding this town together? You all disappoint me."

A trembling David lowered his sleeve for a few seconds. "You… you're supposed to be…"

"Oh I know," The Joker cut in with a wave. He took a few more menacingly slow steps toward David as he continued, "They were supposed to lock me away in Arkham and throw away the key but you know what, I'm here now so how about we never mind all that other stuff and just focus on the present."

"You're too late Joker," David spoke up defiantly. "This town has already moved on without you."

"Well then I guess I'm going to have to pull on the leash a little," The Joker said through gritted teeth as he reached for the flower on his lapel. He gave it a gentle squeeze and a green liquid shot into David's face sending him screaming to the floor.

Harley Quinn popped a bubble of her chewing gum as she watched this display with little sign of enthusiasm. "Doncha think we should have waited until the fella heard what we had to say before we gassed him?" she asked her boss.

The Joker put a finger to his lip in a playful gesture and responded, "Oops! Was that premature? Oh well, it's not like it would have benefited him anyway. Now listen up!" Joker's voice suddenly grew stern and Red Hood and Black Mask both stiffened in response. "I'm the clown who's running this town and nothing has changed about that. So I have a new deal for you gentlemen. Forget all this mushy compromise and join forces to go after your _real_ enemy… The Batman!"

"My gang has no quarrel with The Bat," Red Hood declared. "Going to war with him benefits us not at all."

"Yeah," Black Mask agreed, "He's never been as much of a problem for us as my Red Hooded colleague here. There's no point in going after some armored vigilante with a death wish. And seeing what he did to you after that stunt you pulled, I can't say history is on your side if you want to take him on either."

"Oh ye of little faith," Joker lamented before pulling out a grenade. Everyone in the room tensed at the sight of it and the men of both gang leaders surged forward for protection but they both held their men back. "Now," Joker continued. "I didn't say anything about you gentlemen having a choice in this deal…"

"You're wrong Joker," defied Red Hood. "There's always another option."

The Joker's white painted face scrunched in thought. "Now where have I heard that before…"

But he didn't have enough time to finish his recollection since Red Hood whipped out a small, silver revolver and fired off a few rounds at The Joker. His vision obscured by smoke, however, Red Hood was unable to hit his mark as The Joker dodged out of the way and pulled the pin on the grenade.

"Everybody duck!" Black Mask shouted as his men went to the ground.

The Joker let out one of his signature maniacal laughs as he tossed the grenade in the air and plugged his ears just before it went off.


	11. Lone Wolf Fiction

Knight of Wonder

Act III

Scene 1

The rhythmic beeping and whirring of the medical devices served to allay the troubles in Bruce's mind to a degree. It still wasn't enough to lull him off to sleep, but at least he could relax a little bit as he sat there in the hospital room of Gotham General, looking fixedly at the now gently slumbering Barbra Gordon. For the first several hours he had spent in that room, the images that flashed through Bruce's mind of the horrible atrocities of the last few weeks came like a barrage upon his conscience. How could he have been so reckless? He had to have known that this was the only logical end point in taking her in as his apprentice. Everyone else figured The Joker's attack was motivated by an ultimate design on Commissioner Gordon, and while that was indeed part of the story, Bruce knew the whole story.

For some reason, he still remembered with fondness the first time she dawned the cowl, with the special cutout in the back to let out her long red hair. The thought made the edges of his mouth begin to curl with the beginnings of a smile, but it quickly died when Bruce remembered the recent news. As he had walked in for yet another visit to this room, the big story on the eleven o'clock news had been the assassination of Black Mask, the disappearance of Red Hood, and the inexplicable return of The Joker; mere weeks after Bruce had thought he had put him away for good. The thought made his hand curl into a fist around the stems of the flowers that he had brought to add to the already substantial collection arrayed around Barbra's bed; donations from her friends at college and her family. It was then that Bruce came to wonder if his recent recollections of Barbra and his fondness for those recollections made him some sort of twisted creature. Was he acting out of concern for the city and recruiting another ally for the cause, or was he, in fact, a recruiter of child soldiers and a careless father figure as some of his enemies had charged?

Just minute later, Bruce was brought out of a sleepy stupor by a couple of pained groans. Bruce quickly snapped his head back up and looked to his side to see Barbra grimacing as she opened her eyes. His hand shot over to hers as she stirred and asked in a voice husky from disuse, "Where am I?"

"You're at GGH. You're safe now," Bruce explained in as steady a voice as he could muster. His breathing had grown shallow and ragged as he felt his emotions begin to roil.

"Where's Dad?" Barbra asked.

"He's… He's fine. I imagine he's still at the office, knowing him," Bruce answered as he glanced at his watch. It was a quarter after two in the morning, but Bruce still meant what he said. With Joker back out on the loose, there probably wasn't a force on Earth that would make Jim Gordon sleep before he was found.

"Bruce… Bruce," Barbra tugged needlessly at Bruce's sleeve while the man had to choke back a small sob. "Don't blame yourself… huh… don't take it so…" but before Barbra could fully articulate her thoughts, she drifted back off to sleep.

For a while, Bruce just sat there with Barbra's hand in his as he looked at her resting body with eyes red from fatigue and sadness. At length, he let out a sharp breath and buried his face in the blankets at the side of the bed.

Before long, Bruce had regained some measure of his composure. He set his flowers into the arrangement at Barbra's bedside and, after rearranging and throwing out some of the older flowers to make the display look much neater, he gave the slumbering Barbra a gentle pat on the arm and said with urgent sincerity, "Hang in there kido." Then he grabbed his coat and hat and headed for the door.

As he started down the hall, however, Bruce soon found himself slowing to a halt near the reception desk as the statuesque figure of a woman he knew caught his eye. She was leaning against the desk while the receptionist was away. Her arms were folded over one of the three sheep printed on her gray sweater. Her long brown hair was up in a bun tonight which was a sure sign that this was certainly not a social call. The look of concern on her face was almost more than Bruce could bear. He was sure that he made quite a sight right now, his clothes a mismatched patchwork and his eyes milky and red. Nevertheless, he stopped to great his friend in his most sociable voce, "Diana Prince, as I live and breathe."

Diana uncrossed her arms and stood up from the desk. "I trust your friend back there is doing the same," she ventured in a voice full of sincerity.

Bruce let out a heavy sigh and said with a pained smile, "Indeed she is. She stirs occasionally, asks for her father or if we caught her attacker, but she usually keeps drifting back to sleep before we can make any real talk."

"Still, that's progress right?" Diana asked optimistically.

Bruce swayed where he stood as he looked at his feet and said, "Yeah, I suppose so."

They both stood there silent for a while, Diana looking concernedly at Bruce while the latter avoided her gaze and stared at the floor. At length, Diana choked out "Oh Bruce!" before she wrapped him in a tight embrace that made him have to shift his balance a little awkwardly. He blushed as he realized what was happening while Diana whispered in his ear, "I'll always be here for you."

"Uh, thanks," Bruce said awkwardly as he squirmed free from Diana's hug. He fixed his shirt collar needlessly as he continued, "But it's not me who needs the support right now."

"Oh Bruce, look at yourself!" Diana chastised as she gestured to his disheveled appearance. "When was the last time you slept? In fact, don't answer that. Bruce, you're barely taking care of yourself anymore. I'm worried about you. You need to stop!"

"Stop what?" Bruce asked incredulously as he screwed up his face in a confused expression. "Stop hunting the man who does these kinds of things to people like my parents? Stop seeking justice for Barbra? Diana, I can't change who I am. This has been my whole life since my parents died. To go back now would be a betrayal not only of my principles, but of the ones I love."

"And what about the ones who love you?" Diana fired back with tears welling up in her eyes. She held out her hands in a desperate gesture as she pleaded, "Can't you see, by continuing down this path, you're hurting everyone else around you. Bring it to an end before you get yourself killed!"

Shaking his head in dismissal, Bruce began to walk away towards the hospital exit. "I have to try, Diana," he said in earnest. "Otherwise I'll never be able to live with myself." He could see her reflection in the glass of the doors as he approached them. She had covered her mouth to conceal the sound of her cries. He shook his head again and told himself she'd be alright as he pushed his way through the door and out into the cold, rainy night.

After spending a solitary hour walking briskly down the rain soaked streets of Gotham, Bruce turned down an alley and pulled out a small, black, pen shaped device. He clicked the end and the cloaking system on the car disengaged. A second later and the door to the back slid open to deploy the robot arms that efficiently changed Bruce into the suit that had given him the name of The Batman. Once he was fully armored, he swung himself into the cockpit of the car and brought it roaring to life.

Minutes later and Bruce was tearing through The Narrows on his way to Crime Alley, the very place where it all began. It was all thanks to the message The Joker had left for The Batman on the corpse of Black Mask. "Come to the place that created you so I can unmake you." It had been all over the news and various talking heads had struggled to puzzle out its meaning, but the answer was simple for Bruce.

As the car trundled up to the end of the alley, Bruce ejected himself and glided in gracefully to the street. Then he strode into the alley, eyes and ears enhanced by the suit's sensors, alert for the certain danger that was to come.

Two manholes blew their covers and dispensed a couple of hooded thugs while more masked villains descended from the buildings on either side. At last, there it was, the all too familiar sound of that low, rhythmic chuckle as an inhumanly large silhouette cast from the light of a street lamp mixing with the fog from the manholes loomed over The Dark Knight as he remained near the end of the alley, standing resolute as though he were carved from granite.

The Joker looked as though he had aged heavily in last few weeks since Bruce had seen him last. The madman's bleached white face looked haggard like a well-worn baseball glove as bloodshot eyes leered at him. Joker's figure was hunched and his stride had been reduced to a quick, shambling walk.

All manner of questions raced through The Dark Knight's mind as he tried to use his keen ability for deduction to ascertain just what had happened to this man since he last apprehended him. It didn't take Bruce long to figure out the answer, but by then The Joker had already launched into his typical taunting spiel.

"Well, well, boys look what we have here. A bat has come to nest in our fair corner of the city. Don't get to close. He bites… hard." The Joker ruefully rubbed a spot on his wrist where Bruce had bitten him to get free of a headlock a while back.

"I don't know what they did to you in that prison, but taking me down isn't going to make your jailers go any easier on you," Bruce said in a growling reply.

The Joker held out his hands in that typically pleading way of his. "Now what makes you think that I did any kind of deal that involved them letting me off easy? If you must know, I didn't get out so quickly on my own account."

Now that _was_ baffling. The Joker was a textbook narcissist who never did anything for anyone other than himself. "Care to elaborate?" was all that The Dark Knight asked since he didn't expect a response.

His assumption was proved correct when The Joker wagged a finger at him and said in an overly dramatic tone, "Ah, ah, ah, a magician never reveals his secrets." Then he clapped his hands together and his men charged.

Bruce blocked the club of the first attacker with his arm, turning it so that the blades on his gauntlet sliced the club to pieces and disarmed the opponent. He next attacker was careless and while Bruce fended off the first, he delivered a swift kick to the gut that sent the man reeling to the moist pavement.

As the rest of the men all fell in quick succession. Bruce was starting to wonder why The Joker still bothered with rounding these guys up out of the bars and clubs of Chinatown. As he delivered an elbow to the face of the last attacker, however, Bruce suddenly heard a crackling, electrical sound. He spun around to see The Joker with a black, sleek looking rifle. "Smile!" the Clown exclaimed as he fired the device that sent a beam of energy arcing into The Dark Knight. Bruce let out a yell of pain as the energy coursed through the suit and into his body. By the time Bruce was able to catch a breath, he had fallen to his knees, unable to move the suit. Somehow The Joker had gotten ahold of some kind of technology that made his suit freeze up.

He was powerless as he watched The Joker slink towards him. The clown bent over so he could look The Dark Knight in the eye and say, "You know, I've always fantasized about you this way… on your knees." Then The Joker delivered a roundhouse kick to the head that sent The Dark Knight sliding across the ground. The Joker quickly ran up and continued his assault as he said between strikes, "And… I... was… just… starting… to… like…"

But before The Joker could finish his sentence, a familiar white blur came from nowhere and sent the clown flying into a pile of rubbish. Bruce was barely able to look up and see Diana standing there, her left arm clenching her battle shield which was extended since it had just bashed The Joker almost ten feet. It was only a momentary glance, however, as Diana quickly charged forward.

Bruce faded in and out of a consciousness that was punctuated with The Jokers pained grunts and the sounds of fists smacking flesh. At length, Bruce was finally able to summon enough strength to physically lift himself and the suit, and he was able to crawl to the nearby wall and prop himself up.

The Joker was sprawled on the ground. His face was a bloody mess and getting bloodier as Diana continued to wail on him without mercy. So it was that Bruce, against everything his emotions were telling him, had to live up to his principles and take pity on his enemy. "Diana… Diana! Stop!"

A wild eyed Diana looked up and quickly spotted Bruce slumped on the wall. All she could do was breathe heavily as Bruce warned in a ragged voice, "You'll kill him."

"Why shouldn't I?" Diana cried. "He was going to kill you!"

"I know you're better than that," Bruce said in an appeal to her sympathies for him. He struggled back to his feet and continued to brace himself against the wall as he continued, "Besides, I only just put him away weeks ago. The only way he got back out is if he was allowed to. Someone else wanted him to find me. We need what he knows."

For a moment, Diana's grip loosened. Then it grew firm again as she turned her face back to The Joker. "Why are you here?" She yelled at him. "Who sent you?"

The Joker held out his hands for mercy. "It was for Harley," he gargled through a bloody mouth. "They were going to hurt Harley."

Well, well, it turns out there was a soul inside the Clown after all, Bruce thought. "You see," he said to Diana. "There's more to this story than last time. Let him talk."

Diana turned to listen to The Dark Knight's words and then turned back to Joker. "You heard the man… talk," she said in a voice dripping with implied violence.

"It's all rather over my head buuuut…" The Joker said in a mock British accent which quickly evaporated to speed talking when Diana raised her fist. "But, but, but, sheesh it's like I'm viewing the underside of a public bathroom ha! But it was all something about a deal made at some high level of government."

"What deal?" The Dark Knight growled as he finally stood up on his own and drew closer.

"A deal made to let me and some other less than desirables go if we helped the government. Of course I have no particular love for Ole' Uncle Sam so I refused and they got well… testy."

"Who's they?" Diana demanded.

"Suits of some kind," The Joker responded. "Looked like they were probably FBI or something. They wanted us to knock off you and the rest of your Justice League pals with state support."

"So that's how you got the technology to deactivate my suit," Bruce wondered aloud.

"Rightio Batsy!" The Joker announced just before he coughed up a little more blood.

"But why would the authorities want to take out the League by force when we've already agreed to stand down of our own accord?" Diana asked with a sense of true puzzlement.

At this question, The Joker threw a knowing glance at The Dark Knight and said in a low, ominous tone, "It looks like the powers that be are starting to see your kind as more of a threat than mine." He then broke into one of his characteristic maniacal laughing fits just before Diana delivered him a knockout punch.

The Amazon then rose to her full height and spun around to look at The Dark Knight again, but instead she was met with an empty alleyway. Her lips curled into a frown which was not long in dissipating as she whispered to herself, "Oh no you don't."

A little while later, as the Batmobile flew through the waterfall concealing the entrance to The Cave and came screeching to a halt on its platform, Bruce ejected and glided down near the walk path which efficiently began disassembling his suit. Waiting for him at the end of that path was an irritable looking Diana, her arms folded and her foot tapping impatiently.

As Bruce stepped off the walkway he brushed past Diana with only a passing glance before walking off towards the computer. He could feel the slight itching feeling on the back of his neck that was a sign that Diana had turned to bore a hole in his back with her gaze. So upon reaching the computer Bruce finally deigned to say, "Don't give me that look. I had everything under control."

"Hardly," Diana said as stiffly as the meaning of the word itself. "If that's what you call control then I would hate to see what you would call out of control."

"Yes I think you would," Bruce replied smartly. Before he could reach out his hands to the keyboard of the computer, however, he quickly found his view obscured by shining Amazonian armor as Diana dropped in between him and the device.

"Okay, you want to play things that way," Diana forcefully intoned. "Sit down." She nodded to the nearby computer chair.

Against his usual habit of defiance in the face of orders, Bruce was surprised to find himself seated shortly. His gaze was fixed on the figure of Diana, made lithe by her armor, as she paced about in front of him, her face screwed up as she tried to think of what to say first.

"That lunatic nearly killed you," was her eventual statement.

"Yes he did, and you responded by nearly doing the same to him," Bruce calmly pointed out.

"What was I supposed to do, just let him beat you to death?" Diana asked rhetorically. "Don't answer that." Then she took a long sigh and caressed her eyebrows in that way she did when the stress of a situation was getting to her. "You're so stupid, you know that! I don't know what made you think that going in blindly to that situation was a good idea or who gave you the right, but I'm sorry. If you keep going on the way you have been, I might be forced to take drastic action."

Bruce cocked an eyebrow at this. He was beginning to think that Diana was letting her emotions get the better of her and decided to dispel her concerns categorically. "First of all," he opened. "I wasn't going in blindly. I've wrestled with Joker enough times to know he never just wants to talk when he sends you his calling card."

"I don't care if you knew it was a trap or not! You can't just offer yourself up like that!" yelled Diana in a voice that echoed through the cave and disturbed some of the distantly meditating bats.

"Secondly," Bruce continued in a slightly raised voice to indicate that he wasn't finished. "I don't need anyone's permission to pursue my own case." After this, Bruce stood up and crossed to the other end of the chair in a subconscious effort to put something between him and the fuming Diana. "No one knows The Joker like I do, and I knew the only way he'd get out after what he did was with help. Now, partially thanks to you, we know that there's a bigger game afoot. The government wants us out of the way and they're willing to recruit our enemies to see it through. The rest of the League has to be informed. It may very well be that whatever hold the President has over Clark, he might be using that to double cross him."

"Stop being so paranoid!" Diana cut in. "You always get like this when you're deep in your own cases and it's suffocating. You need to take a break and collect yourself before you lose a part of yourself that you didn't know was important to you."

"And what part would that be?" Bruce asked, as calm as ever. When Diana looked lost for a response, Bruce decided to continue. "Look Diana, the last time I took a break was when the man you just pummeled to within an inch of his life kidnapped my friend and crippled his daughter. I can't afford to take chances just as I can't afford to subordinate authority to anyone else but myself. If there's one thing I've learned in the last few weeks, it's that I can't wait to take action when needed. Otherwise the people I care about get hurt."

"If that's all you've learned in the last few weeks then you know as little as ever," Diana, said in a low, croaking voice full of emotion as she stormed passed Bruce and began to stride away. She wasn't long in changing her mind, however, as she spun back around for one last exchange. Putting a hand to her breastplate, she asked earnestly, "Am I not someone you care about?"

Bruce was caught utterly off guard by the question and fumbled audibly for a response for what seemed to him like an awkwardly long time. At last he was able to stutter out, "Um, yes I care about you Diana. We're on the same team and everything."

"And would you not go out of your way to help me if I were in danger?" Diana followed up.

Bruce straightened his posture at this next question, resolute in his answer. "Of course I would. I'd give everything to make sure you were safe, just as I know you would do the same for me."

"Then any fiction you have of being some kind of lone wolf is just that… a fiction," Diana declared as she pointed a finger at the ground in a gesture that what she was saying was fact beyond reproach. "If you really care about me that much then you do need the permission of someone else before you endanger yourself like that. You need _my_ permission. As you said, I would do the same for you and I already have, twice. So before you go doing something as thick headed as that again, you need to wait until you have my support. Otherwise I'm not letting you leave this cave in that armor again. You mean too much to the League… and you mean too much to me," Diana finished hesitantly before she stormed off towards the exit tunnel and flew away into the darkness.

After this, Bruce was left all alone in the solitude of the Cave, but he found no solace in it as he turned over Diana's words in his own mind. The familiar voice in his head was telling him that there was no one who could tell him what he could and could not do except for himself. On the other hand, however, he could not deny that perhaps Diana had a point, just as he could not deny that he cared enough for Diana to rip the world apart to save her if she were in trouble. For the time being, however, he was content to do the unthinkable and retire from his nightly crusades as long as they were doing nothing but upsetting her. He couldn't explain why. No one else held this kind of power over him. Not even Alfred who was the closest thing he had to family in the world. As Bruce returned to the chair at his computer to begin research on the night's activities, Bruce was forced to only one conclusion. Perhaps there were more to his feelings for Diana than he would admit.


	12. Blind Justice

Knight of Wonder

Act III

Scene 2: Blind Justice

The Fortress of solitude always did seem to Bruce like a gaudy display of self-worship. Never mind the hours it took to fly to the obscure region of the arctic that Clark irrationally decided to make his home. It was mostly the contrast between the minimalist layout of a base of operations set into a crudely electrified cave versus a base of operations made out of crystal.

That wasn't everything of course. There were the strange and exotic Kryptonian beasts that Clark had cloned in S.T.A.R. Labs which growled at the bat-like creature which flitted through their fields of vision. They sat there in glass enclosures as reminders of a dead world and, since virtually no one ever came to visit, basically for Clark's personal amusement as far as Bruce could tell. As he left the zoological corridor, Bruce pondered at what Clark could possibly be feeding such creatures. Then again, it wasn't like Bruce really cared all that much anyway.

These living displays accompanied the more suitably dead ones in the next hall. Bruce would have readily admitted that his Rogue's Gallery back at The Cave might have been a somewhat bold display of trophy collecting not unlike the behavior of certain criminals he had brought in to justice over the years; the subject of hours of self-psychoanalyzing on the Dark Knight's own part. However it was nothing when compared to the monument hall at The Fortress. A great stone statue of some nameless Kryptonian, a couple stories tall, towered over neatly arranged rows of relics: armor, tools, and technology. There was even a mostly intact Kryptonian burial mask behind which, Bruce knew, was a silently recording bat shaped listening device. Bruce didn't trust anyone, least of all an alien with powers akin to a God, despite their having laid aside that argument years ago for the greater good. Still, Bruce suspected that Clark also knew the device was there since his superior senses should have picked up on it ages ago. Bruce had his excuses ready but Clark had never said anything to him about it for some reason. Maybe he was trying to prove he had nothing to hide. Not that it mattered much. All it usually picked up were animal sounds from the adjacent corridor and the distant sounds of Frank Sinatra which Clark would insist on blasting while he did work around the complex. There was one time Bruce thought he was about to hear something he didn't want to hear when that Louis Lane woman had visited, so he respectfully stopped listening and destroyed the tape. Even the ever vigilant Dark Knight had to have some boundaries.

It was into this grandiose setting that the telltale sound of flapping fabric and the feel of cold air against exposed skin finally gave sign to the arrival of the Man of Steel. Bruce knew he didn't have to call for him. All he needed to do was stride around the place enough and Clark would hear him. As it was, Clark was looking a little tired as he appeared standing next to what appeared to be an ancient Kryptonian religious relic. Bruce wondered to himself just what would cause someone so powerful to lose sleep, but he kept his theories to himself.

"So the mighty Batman finally comes out of his cave. To what do I owe this great honor?" Clark asked with some bite.

"You can cut the wounded pride routine. I'm here on business," Bruce defended in a level tone.

"You know we do business at The Watchtower as well, but I suppose whatever it is you do instead is too important for all that," Clark spat back.

Bruce took a patient sigh before pointing out, "For all you know it could be. You don't accompany me on my night time outings any more than I presume to help you stop an earthquake in Eritrea. It is because of that lack of ability that I take some liberties in my duties with The League. When I'm not there, you at least have my Watchtower."

Clark looked as though he wanted to respond but his expression quickly grew glum. Bruce, for his part, was able to keep the urge to smirk buried in his typically stoic look. It always pained Clark whenever Bruce brought up the fact that the Batman lacked any sort of real superpowers because Clark never had an adequate response to it.

"Very well, but my question remains the same. Why have you come?" Clark asked in a voice that sounded as though he was actually willing to listen this time.

 _Much better_ Bruce thought to himself as he answered, "I've come to give you a warning about the very thing I just mentioned. I know you and the rest of The League had a vote and I know I wasn't there, but I'm here now to urge you not to dismantle The Watchtower just yet. There's something afoot and I haven't figured out what it is yet."

Clark assumed a wide stance and crossed his arms, but his verbal response was less firm. "Bruce, despite appearances, I _do_ trust you. You've earned that trust time and again, but I must warn you, I doubt there's anything you could say that will change my mind on this issue. A new era of global harmony is on the line here."

Raising a hand, Bruce gently implored his stalwart rival, "Please, just hear me out."

For a moment, it seemed as though Clark might shake his head and fly off, but at length he nodded. "Okay, what makes you think we should keep the Watchtower?"

"It was something The Joker said," Bruce tossed out there.

Clark almost laughed. "Isn't he your greatest enemy? Why would you ever give anything he says any credence ever?"

Bruce actually swayed where he stood for a moment. This was a question he had asked himself several times before coming here, but his answer was difficult to subvert. "It was because of the sight of him," he finally said. "He escaped mere weeks after I put him away. There wasn't even time to properly put him through the justice system before he was back out, but when he got out he lead me straight to him. And when I got to him he broke a little too easily. Diana showed up and it was like she thrashed the crazy out of him. I know The Joker. I profiled him and tracked him for years. He has never been swayed by threats of punishment or death and almost always plays a final trick, yet he broke all of these habits in our last meeting. He looked… changed. Like whatever they had done to him during his brief incarceration was enough to finally break his spirit. Somebody else wanted to take me down… to take _us_ down, and whoever they are, they wanted to do the impossible and focus Joker at us like a weapon. The only thing they didn't know that I did was that controlling The Joker like that would take some kind of psychological reprogramming on the order of the cruel and inhumane, and he looked like it. He was barely walking Clark…"

Clark looked confused. "I don't understand. Isn't he the one who almost murdered your friends? I would have thought the sight of him in pain would have been welcome to you."

Bruce looked incredulously at his rival. "And I thought you of all people would have understood the concept of compassion even for those who hurt us the most."

Looking momentarily wounded, Clark admitted, "You're right. I'm sorry. I'm talking about something I know nothing about. But still, I don't see what any of this has to do with The Watchtower."

"Like I said," Bruce explained, "Or rather, as Joker said. He had been tortured to within an inch of his life and when that failed they went after the only person he evidently cares about in the world. They wanted to hurt us, and they have the resources to keep trying. And worst of all, 'they' is the government in this case, according to Joker's claims. I know you don't want to hear this but it sounds like your friend the President made a deal behind our backs to make sure we're out of the picture permanently."

"You know I can't believe that," Clarke interjected. "Especially when it's coming from the mouth of a known psychopath."

"Do you mean The Joker or me?" Bruce quickly countered.

Clarke shook his head. "Okay, to be honest, I don't care who it's from. The President puts a lot of faith in me to get the job down and there's no way he'd jeopardize that relationship."

"Even if it was to attain the very thing you have both worked so hard to achieve since he took office?" mentioned Bruce. Clarke was lost for words again which finally brought a grin to Bruce's face. "It looks like you don't know politicians like I do Clark. When given the choice between betraying a friend and reaching their goal, or sticking to their principles and losing what they want in the process, they almost always chose the former. Yes even Presidents… no matter how much they might claim to tell it to you straight. Face it Clark, your friend sold you out over this nuclear deal and you are playing right along without even knowing it."

For a long while, Clark simply stood there lost in thought. Bruce waited patiently for his wayward compatriot to piece together the dots, but he was somewhat disappointed when Clark finally looked up and said, "I'm sorry, I can't handle this kind of information. I need to go clear my head."

And without so much as a 'by your leave,' Clark had vanished down a corridor and out of the Fortress. Bruce sighed. He fancied himself rather clever at being able to vanish mid-conversation, but his ability was nothing next to the Man of Steel who probably even now was going on one of his ridiculous global circumnavigations of the kind he usually took when particularly upset by something. It was always the subject of some disillusionment for Bruce when Clark would deal with his issues in such ridiculous displays. In the end, all he could do was shake his head and make his way toward the exit on his own, decidedly less terrific, feet.

As he held his cape up to shield himself from the gusts of a sudden blizzard, Bruce's mood grew steadily worse. One would think a quasi-god could make his home literally anywhere in the universe. The fact that it was in the middle of the arctic was simply maddening. So after he entered the pilot seat of the Batwing and brought the craft hissing to life, he was forced to brush snow from his armor and mutter to himself bitterly as he did so, yet again. So this was the thanks he got for trying to listen to Diana and talk some sense into Clark. Well it wasn't worth the numbness in his fingers. Despite his presence here as Batman, he had stayed true to Diana's demand for no more anti-criminal activity. Instead he was reduced to trying to drum up support for the cause of keeping The Watchtower. Maybe J'onn and Barry would be more reasonable.

A few hours later and the silently rotating shape of The Watchtower was growing in size through the main viewport. Bruce shook his head to fight off the numb stupor he was feeling after so many hours spent flying to the arctic and then into the frigid climbs of orbit not long after. His ears hurt from the pressure enough that he was tempted to reach for the stick of gum he had stashed beneath the seat but there wasn't enough time and it would have been beneath his dignity to show up at the tower he built in full gear and blowing a bubble. Bruce always hated flying to The Watchtower.

A few minutes later and the port side airlock hissed open to reveal a very concerned looking Flash. "What's wrong Barry?" Bruce asked immediately as he glided into the entrance corridor.

"It's J'onn, I think there's something wrong with him. Come on, I'll how you!"

Without another word, Bruce followed the Flash as they both clutched the hand rails and zipped down the hall and into the nearby observation deck. Banks of computers whirred and chirped as they carefully kept track of world events, and there, on the ground by one of the servers, lay the Martian J'onn, clutching his bald, green cranium and groaning in pain.

Drawing close, Bruce knelt down and got his mini-flashlight out of his belt. He held it up to J'onn's eye which had gone a bright yellow. Bruce put his flashlight away and stood up shakily in the low gravity. Turning to face Barry, Bruce explained, "J'onn's gone into some kind of telepathic trance. I watched him do this once, before he was part of the league." Bruce turned a pitying glance to the Martian. "Whoever's thoughts he's experiencing right now must be particularly unpleasant."

Just then, the Martian shot out a hand and grabbed Batman's cape. Bruce was forced to steady himself against the wall to remain upright while the light in J'onn's eyes faded back to normal. "Batman! Flash! We have to warn everyone!" the alien cried.

"What is it J'onn?" Bruce demanded.

"Yeah, what did you see?" Barry followed up.

"Green… Lantern," gasped J'onn.

"Where is he, man?" Barry questioned earnestly. "He's been gone for a while. Is he in trouble?"

"He's in prison… Highfather's prison. We are betrayed… Darkseid is coming for us. We have to prepare!"

Bruce could feel a tingle of cold sweat as it trickled down his spine. He shot a look at Flash and found his own expression of grave concern reflected.


	13. What Kind of Favors

It felt wrong to be having a birthday party at a time such as this. So it was only for Alfred's sake that Bruce had decided to throw a party at Wayne Manor for all those who wanted to come. The turnout happened to be many times what he had expected and suddenly Bruce was left staring blankly through an undulating mass of urban socialites, trying to reconcile with himself.

Dozens of thoughts were galloping through his head, distracting him thoroughly from his surroundings. For instance, he still was unsure of his own theory that the government was behind the efforts to dismantle or destroy the League, even though the evidence was fairly clear. And if it _was_ that clear, what might that mean for Clark? Bruce almost openly dreaded the idea that Clark might unwittingly get turned into some all-powerful pawn of someone with evil intentions. He dreaded even more the prospect of renewing the bitter feud they had set aside years ago to form the League in the first place. And that left the question of how Bruce might actually hope to win that speculative confrontation with Clark when he had just barely survived the last one. At the time, Bruce had fully resigned himself to the idea that he was going to be a martyr for humanity. That was then, however, and what might have worked then made little sense now.

"Bruce… Bruce man, do you hear me buddy?"

The question from Oliver Queen finally managed to snap Bruce out of his trance like meditation of these issues. So with an awkward throat clearing, Bruce summoned every scrap of manners he could within the context of the conversation and said, "I'm sorry Joan, I was a million miles away."

Ollie raised a pure blond eyebrow at him. He always hated being called by his pet name Joan, a play on his middle name of Jonas. It was a jibe that Bruce had hurled his way on occasion since they had first been in business together about four years ago. As it stood, it seemed as though Ollie was willing to let the swipe go for the moment in the interest of finally having a two sided conversation. "As I was saying, the recent legislation must have been very good for Wayne Enterprises. You and yours have to look upon any kind of financial deregulation as a good thing."

"It mostly had to do with mortgage backed securities and freeing up investment devices to be used as collateral against private leverage," Bruce answered coolly. "It had very little to do with our business since we deal mostly in enterprise banking like stocks and bonds. Getting into the retail business interests me not at all."

"Uh huh," Ollie let out before he took a small sip of Champaign and surveyed the sea of guests arranged in the dimly lit Wayne Manor ballroom. "Still, I'm sure a lot of your buddies will be happy that they were finally able to buy the influence of the most powerful man in the world."

"The President's days in office are winding down," Bruce countered. "Besides, I don't think there's anyone in Star City who doesn't know where your political tendencies lie. If you're such a champion of the people, why don't you throw your money into the ring? You could buy out the influence of a hundred of any of my friends."

That brought a smirk to Ollie's face. "I could buy out a hundred of your friends because you've got an egotistical streak, man. You can't handle being around anyone more successful than you."

"I tolerate _you_ don't I?" Bruce retorted wittily.

Ollie stroked his golden goatee at this and chuckled, "I suppose you've got a point there." Bruce shrugged. "Besides, I should think the President's proxy war in Afghanistan would make you even richer."

Ollie shook his mop of blond hair at this. "Mortgage backed securities are to Bruce Wayne what Afghanistan is to Oliver Queen."

Bruce looked skeptical. "The biggest covert arms supply operation in the world and you're telling me Queen Industries has no part?"

"I know, it's hard to stomach the loss," Ollie allowed. "But it would be even harder to stomach letting those people fight our wars for us. The defense department makes all kinds of pretty promises to help those poor peasants after the fighting's done, but you know that's a lie, and I'm not dragging Q.I. into anything as shady as that."

"Had enough after that affair with the Contras eh?" ventured Bruce.

Ollie's expression grew serious and with a pointed index finger he held up his Champaign glass. "You bet your ass we did."

Just then Bruce heard a familiar feminine voice call his name. He could feel the goose bumps go up his back as he turned around and saw the vision of Diana Prince coming towards him. She was wearing a maroon colored dress with a thigh high slit along the side. Her hair was done up in some obnoxious looking beehive and clearly she had sunk enough careful time into her makeup for the result to pay off handsomely. Needless to say, Diana's look caught Bruce utterly off guard and he was at a loss for words as she confidently strode over to where he and Ollie were standing.

"There you are dear. I've been looking for you all night. It would be a shame for me to come all this way to a party at Bruce Wayne's mansion and not give the man himself my best in person."

"Uh, trust me Ms. Prince, I think it's clear to anyone tonight that you are at your very best," Bruce muttered out awkwardly.

After a painfully long silence, it was Ollie who finally spoke up. "Welp!" he exclaimed as he clapped a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "I'll leave you two to chat then," and he shot Bruce a mocking wink just before he strode away to mingle with the other guests.

Bruce wanted to say something to delay him but by the time anything came to mind Ollie was already out of earshot. He had effectively been left swinging in the wind. Resolved not to let this trip him up, however, Bruce summoned all the finesse he could muster and dutifully reiterated, "I'm sure you've been told plenty already so perhaps I'll refrain from telling you how beautiful you look tonight."

"Stop it Bruce. You'll make me start to think you find my look unattractive when I don't go through all the trouble to do myself up like this."

Bruce could feel himself start to blush which led to a subconscious turn of the head away towards the rest of the crowd. "I meant no offense. Even you must admit you don't get made up that often. I didn't mean to imply that your look was vastly improved from your normal one though."

Diana reached a hand to Bruce's cheek to turn his face back to hers. She said as their eyes met, "Take it easy. I was only kidding."

Bruce felt his jaw slacken a bit but he quickly composed himself. He reminded himself that he was a professional, through and through, and that this was a trusted colleague and nothing more. So as Diana's hand returned to her side, Bruce finally regained enough strength in his jaw to ask, "Anyway, what brings you out here to my humble party? You're surely not here just to celebrate my birthday."

Diana shook her head, but judging from the grin on her face it was more out of silent judgment than a confirmation of Bruce's last statement. Ignoring his question entirely, she simply responded with a gesture to the floor and a, "Shall we dance?"

For a moment, Bruce stood and stared at the slowly undulating sea of people moving about the marble floor. Suddenly the picture was a little threatening, but not one to be deterred by the thought of a dance, Bruce gave his female companion a curt nod and the two of them set off onto the floor and fell neatly into the rhythm of the rest of the dancers.

As they swayed around the room, from the enormous brick fireplace with the number 30 in balloons above it, to the tall windows looking out over green fields to the city beyond, and back, Bruce could feel his eyes searching about for something to focus on besides the vixen like stare that Diana was giving him. They went on like this for a while before Diana finally drew close, leaned her mouth to his ear and stated silently, "So I hear you have connections at the White House…"

Resisting the urge to chuckle at Diana's typical lack of subtlety, Bruce sighed, "So _that's_ what you're here for… well yes I do know someone who works in the East Wing as it happens. Why? Planning on doing something dangerous?"

"Not necessarily," Diana denied. "I want an audience with the President."

This time Bruce could not contain himself and a small puff of laughter escaped his lips. "Is that all?" He asked rhetorically. "It's not like I rub shoulders with the guy all the time, Ms. Prince. If anything, I'm probably on his black list for my association with Ollie since he gave heavily to Mondale's campaign a few years ago."

"Well, getting into the building proved to be not enough the last time. The President blew me off entirely to go tend to some other security matters."

Bruce grinned. "Something to do with our mutual friend from Krypton."

"You're fast Mr. Wayne," Diana confirmed with a grin. "I like that about you."

"Not something I usually hear from beautiful women…" Bruce responded coyly. The dancing couple maneuvered their way across the dance floor with deftness and grace until the music soon ended. Then they retired to a dark corner of the room while half the guests split off from the dance floor to head to the freshly stocked buffet table.

Bruce leaned against the door frame of the passage that lead to his private study which contained the secret entrance to his other life. Diana walked up and draped her arms around his neck which elicited little response from the man except a slight stiffening in posture.

Fixing her companion with an undeniably predatory stare, Diana continued her venture. "So just how close can this associate of yours get me to the man?"

While Bruce was tempted to crack some joke about just how close Diana already was to himself, the words couldn't quite come to him so he decided to drop his playboy act a little more. "You mean former associate," he corrected. "Miss Wells left Wayne Enterprises two years ago to take a position on the President's board of economic advisors."

"Good for her, the economy isn't doing too badly. Does this Ms. Wells have a first name?"

"Hmm, I guess you might say she doesn't. 'Miss' is her actual first name," Bruce explained.

Diana looked momentarily bemused by this but she soon dismissed the expression to return to her earlier one. "Well what could I offer you in exchange for a chance to meet with her?" she purred.

It was all too obvious to Bruce what Diana was implying through her question, and while he found the offer to be surprisingly tempting, he once again resorted to his dogged professionalism in his response. "I don't think it would be worth bargaining over. If I didn't mention it before, Miss Wells works on the other side of the White House from her boss and they rarely encounter each other except for a monthly meeting which he spottily attends anymore. I'm told his behavior in general has grown increasingly erratic, as a matter of speculation. There are rumors that his age is finally catching up with him, but you didn't hear that from me."

Diana frowned as she backed a few steps away from Bruce. "Fine," she huffed. "I thought you might have a way but I suppose if you're not willing to help me then I shall have to find someone else who will."

If Diana was thinking that the possibility of missing out on giving her such an assist was giving Bruce any number of scruples she was mistaken, as Bruce thought satisfactorily to himself. "I'm sorry I couldn't be of more use to you," he regretted. "Maybe you should talk to Ollie. He's deep in the Democratic donor circles so maybe he'll be able to help you out if his man wins the upcoming election, as long as your reasons for wanting to see the President aren't dire, that is."

Diana shook her head. "That won't do," she said. "I need to see him as soon as I can. Besides, I don't want Ollie's help. I want yours."

"Ms. Prince, I've already told you, I can't really do you any favors," Bruce reminded her.

That grin returned to Diana's face as she drew herself up near enough to Bruce's face that he could feel the breath of every syllable as she whispered, "Now I don't know about _any_. That depends on what kind of favors we're talking about."

Bruce could feel the color rise in his cheeks again and he stuttered for a response just before Diana delivered a short kiss on his lips.

Once she drew back, she fixed him with a sly smile and said, "Don't be a stranger." And with that, she glided away back into the crowd.

After he managed to shake the stars out of his vision, Bruce regained himself and strode off after her intending to say something to her, although he hadn't quite made up his mind what it was going to be. By the time he caught sight of her again, however, she was outside at the manor drive, slipping into the sleek red sports car she had rented for the occasion. Just before she took her place in the driver's seat, however, her gaze was drawn almost magnetically to Bruce's. She gave him one last sly smile and then dipped into the car and drove away.

"Okay, now you've got to tell me what _that_ was," came a voice from just behind the doorway where Bruce was standing. He didn't turn to see who it was since he already knew he would see the tall, blond figure of Oliver Queen again. Instead Bruce rubbed his chin pensively and forced out the awkward lie, "I'm… not sure."

Ollie chuckled boyishly and said with a flourish, "Whatever you say Brucie. Me and the rest of the guys will be crashing at the bar until you decide to join us!"


	14. For God and Country

Act IV

Scene 1: For God and Country

Wind and the ever present dust that came with it made the tent billow a little more forcefully than was comfortable to Clark. It was yet another typically windy day at the Tora Bora cave complex. So it was with a face covered by a length of cloak that Clark exited the tent and looked about at the various local guerilla fighters scurrying to and fro in their preparations for the next inevitable barrage of artillery fire from the Russians.

Clark was greeted with a few smiles and curt bows from some of the passing men. Most were delighted to see a representative of their American allies actually on the ground alongside them. Many more were just glad to see another day. For Clark, he would have given anything for a cheeseburger. He had been camping out in the region for so long he had practically gone native, wearing a long, light brown cloak, a gray turban, and an especially long beard. Of course, Clark figured his appearance to be deference to the customs and appearance of the people he had been living and fighting amongst for so long.

Clark ducked back inside his tent. His minder Khassim was there by the fire in the center of the tent, tending to a pot of stew. He was a grizzled old veteran of the war and only spoke to Clark in Pashto which Clark understood not a word of, but Clark had grown to like the toothless old man and they regularly played chess every evening. But as Khassim lifted his spoon to test the flavor of the stew, smacking his lips in that irritating way of his, Clark was instantly transported back to another time when this particular irritant played upon his nerves.

The unceasing chewing noise coming from the bubblegum-occupied mouth of Miss Wells was enough to set Clark's teeth on edge. He liked to think he was a tolerant person without too many pet peeves, but for some reason the sound of other people chewing anything at all really bothered him. The candy policy was there for quickly becoming one of the few things Clark actually disliked about his friend the President, and Clark started to come to this very realization when he reflexively turned down the typically offered jar of jelly beans the last time he had been in the Oval Office.

"Suit yourself," the old man replied as he popped a jelly bean of his own before reaffixing the glass lid on the brightly multicolored jar. "Well I guess that's enough chit chat. We had better get down to the reason why we wanted you here today."

"Of course, sir," Clark agreed. "Anything for my adopted homeland."

The President gave a familiar if oddly timed chuckle at this statement. Perhaps it was another sign of the President's drifting mind. Needless to say, it was something Clark refused to dwell on.

Instead, Miss Wells cut in and said, "As you may know, Mr. Kent, our operation in Afghanistan has been humming along rather smoothly for the past few years and we've seen some great results. The cost of the conflict on the Russian economy has been catastrophic and we had predicted their full withdrawal from the region within the year."

"As it happens, I was not aware that things were going quite that well," Clark pointed out. The warning words of Bruce Wayne were just starting to echo in his head, and try as he might, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that there was something more to this Afghanistan story that he wasn't being told. He hated doubting his friends' sincerity and had never had cause to until recent events. He wanted to believe that it was all some elaborate conspiracy to turn him against his country, but Clark knew Bruce as a practical man who wouldn't have taken the time to personally air the suspicions he had unless he had a very good reason to believe that they were true, and Clark couldn't readily recall a time when Bruce had ever been wrong before.

So it was with a raised eyebrow that Miss Wells responded, "I'm sorry. I'm simply an economic advisor. I can only guess has to who gets briefed on what. You'll pardon my mistake. In any case, we have the Russians on the ropes and we were under the impression that they were willing to come to the table and work with us as our long term forecasts predicted."

Clark couldn't help but frown a little at the mention of any cooperation between the United States and Russia. It was just that kind of cooperation that he had been warned about, but Clark decided to play along for the moment and see where this conversation was going. "You keep using all these phrases like 'had predicted' and 'under the impression' as though things are actually not going according to plan, so I'm forced to ask, are they not?"

Miss Wells slowly shook her head. "Indeed they are not, Mr. Kent. That's why we need you to step in and give them a little extra persuasion."

Clark's frown grew genuine, but he listened intently when the President stepped in with an explanation. "Son, we have it on good intelligence that the Russians are planning to withdraw from Afghanistan, but this is only going to be a faint. The true intent of their pullback is to get their troops out of missile range."

Clark's eyes went wide. "Missile range?" he parroted inquisitively. "What, you mean as in… _nuclear_ missile range?"

The President gave a weighty nod. "That's right son."

Clark leaned forward in his chair, barely resisting the urge to leave it, as he exclaimed, "Why in God's name would they resort to such a drastic step? They're fighting a bunch of peasants hiding in caves, not some organized nation state! I thought the purpose of our negotiations with the Russians was to prevent just this sort of thing from ever occurring."

The President let out a weary sigh. "So did I, kido. But it turns out the Russians' intentions may have been less than genuine. You're right to point out that the Afghans aren't organized, but the Russians don't see it that way. They've been so beaten down by Islamic terrorism and guerilla wars for so long that they want to send a message. Continue on your current course and we will reduce you and your families to irradiated ash. Typical Russian power doctrine. Which is why I'm left with no choice. I know you have plenty of responsibilities with your League and all that, but I'd like to ask you a favor and have you make your way to Afghanistan…"

Clark already knew what the President was about to say before he even said it.

"If there's one person in the world capable of preventing a nuclear holocaust, it's you. I need you to step and attempt to disarm the missiles when they start flying. You're our number one nuclear deterrent, and now your country needs you in that role in a more real way than ever before."

The President's final words echoed in Clark's mind as he sat there in the lightly billowing tent next to the gently chewing Khassim. It wasn't long before a steaming bowl of the frothing stew that Khassim had prepared was thrust before Clark's face. He turned it down with a polite smile and an awkward laugh before deciding to head back outside once again. It was probably because he didn't want to sit next to a man who chewed his food like a horse, but maybe it was because Clark had never felt comfortable inside the stuffy surroundings of the tent.

Clark wasted no time in taking a stroll about the camp. The light of the day was starting to fade to a brilliant orange that spilled out over the mountains giving Clark no small amount of pause. Given the oppressively flat landscape of his native Smallville, Clark figured he'd never get used to the sight of mountains in the distance, and it was an object of fascination to him that such sights were an everyday part of life for these people he was trying to protect.

He had to turn down an enthusiastic invitation from a one eyed Afghan to play that horse game they were always so fond of playing. As far as Clark could discern, it was something not entirely unlike polo that he had seen being played by a member of the royal family the last time he had visited Great Britain. In fact, given the history of the British Raj in the region, that was likely where they had picked it up, but Clark had no wish to end up as one eyed as the man who had wanted him to play, and besides, all Clark wanted to do was head to the top of the mountain, take in the sunset and clear his head of thoughts.

The way up was long and treacherous as always, and it left Clark wondering if he'd end up spending the night on the mountain top as he had a few times in the past given the already late hour. The only companions he had on the way were a few boys herding goats along the narrow path, although they were all headed back down to camp for the night. The only companion he had who was actually headed up was a gray cat who loyally followed him until it lost interest and went chasing after some small prey.

Upon reaching the summit, Clark assumed his usual seat atop a small pile of stones. He assumed his meditative position as he stared off into the distance. The landscape of the Afghan hinterlands looked a spotty brown as it spread out before him. It had taken so long to get to his destination here that the sun had almost set completely by the time he sat down. And then he straightened his back, fixed his gaze on a randomly selected stone and channeled all his concentration into it, obliterating all memories and thoughts of the President, of Bruce Wayne, of conspiracy and danger.

A sound entered the range of his enhanced hearing that was not expected. It was outside the usual distant noises of livestock and earnestly chattering people. It was a hissing noise like that of an aircraft, but it sounded off somehow. Clark averted his gaze from his stone and focused his enhanced vision into the distance. His sight passed beyond the valley, across the distant mountains and into the horizon beyond. There he saw the dreaded sight of what he had come for; a trio of Russian missiles descending from the sky on a vector for the camp. They would surely devastate the surrounding landscape and render it uninhabitable to anyone and anything, just like the President had predicted.

Clark took a deep breath and then shot into the sky after his targets. Within seconds he was flying alongside the missiles. He used his laser vision to slice open the cone of the warhead where the then unscrewed the massive metal device. He hurled it into the distance and blew it up harmlessly with his laser vision while the rocket dropped harmlessly out of the sky. He repeated the process for the next two missiles and heaved a sigh of relief as he watched the third and final rocket plummet to the ground.

Then… confusion. The sound was still there, but Clark couldn't quite pinpoint where it was coming from until it was too late. He spun around in midair as he was descending back to the ground, a look of horror etched on his face. He only just barely had time to shield his eyes from the blast that would have surely blinded him, and then all he could do was watch in despair as a trio of mushroom clouds took shape over the camp that he had just come from. All the while Clark's mind was racing with how he could have possibly missed the other missiles until he heard the sound of yet more missiles on their way to another nearby population target.

He sped to the missiles and saw with shock that they were not Russian, but American! He was forced off his flight path when one of the missiles veered from its general course to come after him and Clark was forced to race away. Moments later and he had barely managed to disarm the missiles. Maybe there had been a malfunction with the early warning system and the American missiles had been fired from a nearby submarine automatically? Clark couldn't fathom how that could be though since their firing mechanisms were usually manual.

Once again his thoughts were interrupted when he heard the noise of more missiles. They were Russian this time but they all came straight for him when he approached. He disarmed two but a third smacked into him and detonated in a great green blaze. Clark fell from the sky and cratered into the ground below. He could feel the cold sweat and loss of limb control usually associated with intense Kryptonite exposure. Then another trio of missiles flew in. They were American and they were headed straight for him. A quick scan with his vision and Clark just had time to see that they were filled with yet more Kryptonite. He wanted to know why he had been betrayed, but the answer was all too quick in coming. Just before the missiles struck, Clark wheezed, "Bruuuuce… I'm sorry."


	15. Man's World

Act IV

Scene 2: Man's World

"Right this way, Ms. Prince," the bespectacled Miss Wells gestured down the brightly lit hall. Diana Prince politely nodded her acknowledgement and she clicked her heals against the polished marble floors as she made her way towards the open door at the end of the hall. The faces of the illustrious men in the paintings that lined the walls looked down on her with expressions that ranged from somber to mild delight. Roosevelt, Coolidge, Truman, Kennedy, and even the odd Thomas Jackson in the stairwell leading to the residence all held places of distinction on the walls of the White House. The fact that there were almost no women to be seen was not lost on Diana. It only served as yet another reminder that she was in man's world and that she would have to play by its rules if she hoped to accomplish what she was here to do. For the moment, reacting to the intolerable patriarchy that ruled over this place with resistance and protest was not going to get her anywhere except thrown out. If she didn't focus first on saving the system, then there would be no system left to save.

Stepping through the door and rounding a corner, Diana was shocked to see what at first appeared to be a mirror image of herself; a tall woman in a black and white pantsuit, her hair held back in a tight bun and a gleaming crest of the Amazons pinned to her breast. The bun only served to deaden the wrinkles on the doppelganger's face, however, and Diana immediately knew she was face to face with Hippolyta, her ruler and her mother.

Before any words were exchanged, Diana made a quick scan of the waiting room and noticed several oddities. The room itself was a dimly lit board room with an oak table enough to seat several people, which it currently was. Diana's friend Zola was lounging in the corner in a small leather chair. She looked much the same as when Diana had last seen her, with her bright blond hair cut short, though she was wearing a tasteful black dress in the Earth style that made her look somewhat more statuesque. The significance of her presence was of immediate interest to Diana given Hippolyta's suspicions of her friend that the two had debated over when last they spoke.

And then there were the other Amazons present. Clearly Hippolyta had impressed upon each of them the importance of dressing in the style of the culture in which they were appearing since they were all styled in the same Earth fashions. The rest of the women were a mix of commandos and support personnel, as Diana quickly realized when she recognized some of them from previous campaigns she had been on. This filled her head with questions, but the most important was the first passed her lips, "Mother… what are you doing all the way out here?"

Hippolyta lifted an eyebrow and responded, "Good to see you too, daughter. Won't you take a seat?" She gestured to an open chair at the end of the table nearest to Diana.

Thoroughly caught off guard, Diana turned to Miss Wells who gave her a cheery smile as she stepped out and shut the door. Mr. Wayne's contact in the White House had seemed so helpful at first, and when Wells had said she would bring her along to an important meaning, Diana had taken her meaning to be a sincere confirmation of her willingness to help. So once again she found herself undone by inattentiveness to the subtleties of those in the political world.

She considered saying something more, but after resigning herself to the fact that she had no idea what was going on, she lowered her head and took a seat. Once she had done so, Hippolyta did likewise and prepared to successively level with her in a more social manner.

Clasping her hands together, Hippolyta opened by saying, "My commandos and I have come on urgent business concerning Man's World."

"Funny," Diana replied matter-of-factly, "So have I."

"In that case, it would appear obvious that we are of one purpose today," Hippolyta said in a more optimistic tone.

"Perhaps," Diana responded tersely, refusing to give her mother the satisfaction of confirming her suspicion. "And if we are on the same business, then what business would that be specifically?"

Hippolyta unclasped her hands and stood up again to begin pacing about her side of the room in that regal way she did when trying to press a point of some grand importance. "It should be clear by now that Man's World is in danger of being destroyed. Darkseid's fleet of warships makes its way even now towards Earth, and the check we put in place against this has betrayed us and refuses to answer to the inquiries of the Lantern Corps. It is obvious to everyone by now that Earth's position against this coming threat is most dire indeed."

"Obvious to everyone," Diana said as she rested her check on the palm of her hand in a tired gesture, "except Man's World."

Hippolyta cut her pacing short, turned to Diana with a pointed finger and exclaimed. "Exactly! That is why we are here. To sound the alarm before it is too late and perhaps prevent the utter annihilation of Man's World."

Diana sat back in her chair and threw her arms wide in a scurrilous gesture of disbelief. "And why in Hera's name would you want to do that, mother? You _hate_ Man's World. Why go to any length to save it?" There was no love lost between Diana and her mother on this point since Hippolyta had, in fact, banished Diana from Themyscira for leaving to join the League a few years previously, and it had only been the threat posed by Hades and the desperate position Themyscira was in that had forced Hippolyta to revoke her banishment and call her back to aid in the conflict.

"Normally I wouldn't even bat so much as an eyelash at anything threatening Man's World," Hippolyta assented. "But this time it's different. The threat posed by Darkseid's forces threatens all of Earth, not just Man's World. The victory of Darkseid would mean the occupation of Earth and the eventual subjugation of all its inhabitants, including us, and it would represent an intolerable increase in Darkseid's power. And finally, though it is a reason that resides first in my heart, I have come with my shield maidens as a gesture of apology."

"Apology?" Diana threw the word back while a look of confusion crossed her face. "To whom? For what?"

Hippolyta's features slackened a bit as she admitted, "An apology to you, daughter. You were right. The women of Amazonia cannot ignore the developments of Man's World. Like it or not, the time has come to admit that we are linked by the world that we share. In a crisis of this magnitude, a threat to one is a threat to all. That is the message we have to bearing to the Presidents of all the major fiefdoms of Man's world, if they will hear it."

"I fear they may not," Diana warned. "I have tried to meet with the American President on a number of occasions but he has always been called away on more pressing matters. The only member of the league he was ever content with seeing was Kal-El."

"Hmm, the very one we have to blame for bring this sword of Damocles down upon us in the first place," Hippolyta scorned. "Tell me, what has become of him lately?"

"He's dead," Diana dropped to gasps of horror from many of the surrounding Amazons. It was true, though. Diana had barely believed it herself until Bruce had mailed a tape of the footage to her apartment in Gotham. She was still wondering how Bruce had gotten ahold of the surveillance tape of the multiple nuclear detonations in Afghanistan, originally filmed from spy satellites, even as she had begun to get over her grief for the loss of her friend.

The look on Hipployta's face was grave indeed. "How can this be?" She asked in momentary bewilderment. "Are you certain the man from Krypton is dead?"

"Quite certain," Diana confirmed.

"This is dire… without him, Earth is now all but defenseless. Who could be responsible for such a thing."

Resisting the urge to blurt out Bruce Wayne's suspicions in the home of the very man he suspected, Diana instead cryptically answered, "I don't know, but I intend to find out."

Just then, a beaming Miss Prince reentered the room and announced to the assembly, "I am very sorry everyone, but the President has been called into the situation room and probably won't be available for the rest of the day, so if you will all follow me, I will show you all out. Do please try and visit us again soon, though."

Diana shot her mother a knowing glance, and judging by the dark expression on Hippolyta's face, she was beginning to piece together her daughter's suspicions. Nevertheless, the women gathered together and filed out of the room and down the hall. As they proceeded out, Diana feigned a couple of sneezes and complained that she was allergic to pets as the President's Spaniel dog Rex pattered on by. Luckily no one took another look around the window or vent in the hall as they proceeded toward the exit.


	16. An Apparition

Act IV

Scene 3: An Apparition

The wind around the Oval Office blew with such force that it gave off an eerie moan, causing the trees to sway and the bushes to rustle with startling ferocity. The sky let loose a sudden lightning bolt and the President gave a start. He was standing behind his desk chair, looking out at the gathering dark of the storm outside. He lamented at how it had been a rather pleasant evening only moments before. Now the storm clouds outside turned the sky so inky black that it almost looked like it was full night. So with a weary sigh, the old man took another long sip of coffee from his mug. It was probably going to be another long night. Coordinating with the Russians after Afghanistan had left no time for sleep.

The President's next sip was interrupted by another sudden lightning strike, causing him to almost lose control of the mug. Showing reflexes surprisingly still acute for man his age, however, he recovered the mug and returned it to his desk while only spilling a few drops onto the carpet. Then he looked up and gave another start.

The room had gone dark. The lights were out and for some reason the backup lights had not kicked on, and standing just behind one of the twin couches was a massive dark figure robed in black. The President squinted to make out the stranger's features but then a third lightning strike came down and lit up the room revealing that it was empty.

The President blinked his eyes confusedly. Then he was seized by the sudden dread of knowledge that perhaps his condition was advancing faster than he cared to admit to himself. He tried to remember if he had taken all of his various medications that day but he couldn't quite recall. So he turned around to look back out the window and almost died of fright to find the dark figure standing right in front of him.

Letting out a little scream, the President fell back into his chair and trembled there for a while. Finally, the figure in black spoke in his gravelly, near demonic voice, "I know what you did to Clark."

Dabbing at the beads of sweat starting to form on his forehead, the President stuttered back, "W-w-what are you talking about?"

But almost before he had the words out, the demon snapped back "Don't play games with me!"

The President held his hands up defensively and pleaded, "Okay, okay, you got it. But it wasn't my idea, I swear!"

"Who ordered the strike," the demon croaked.

"It was Miss Wells' idea. She's been the point person for doing away with the League from the start, ever since she left Wayne Enterprises to come work for the administration. The same year the Gotham Bat and Clark decided to set aside their differences, she joined my campaign trying to get me to change my position on the League. When I decided against it, she went straight to the Joint Chiefs with the idea of a truce with the Russians in exchange for ending the League. My hands were tied. I either had to go along with the plan or risk the resignation of half my cabinet!"

The demon leaned down to bring itself face to face with the President. "How do you and the Russians plan on taking out the rest of the League?"

The President shook his head at the bat eared apparition. "You'll have to ask her yourself. There's only a few days left until the election and everyone is already reporting to my likely successor, including Wells. They don't tell me anything anymore. All they do is tell me where to order the strikes."

The grim faced demon let out a growl as he backed off a few steps and stood upright again. "If it weren't for the end of your term, you'd be dangling by a rope from the capitol dome for what you did to Clark. As it stands, you're to order no more strikes. You're to do nothing else at all until you leave here… or you'll be hearing from me again."

The President gulped as he spun his chair around, unable to look the demon in the eye anymore. Then he let his hands fall to his desk as he sighed, "Look… I'm sorry for what happened to Clark. He was… he was my friend. I knew one of you guys would eventually come after me and I just want you all to know I haven't been able to sleep since it happened. No one regrets what happened more than I, but it was a matter of survival. "

When this heartfelt confession was met only with silence, the President summoned the courage to spin his chair back around to face the apparition one more time, but when he did so, he was met only with empty space and the view out the windows of the rustling bushes beyond. Suddenly the lights powered back on and the President heard a brief tap at the door. He spun back around again to see a member of his security detail peering through the doorway.

"Sorry to disturb you sir," the young man apologized. "But we got the backup generator back online and we just wanted to make sure you were doing okay."

After taking a brief glance behind himself, the President hesitantly answered, "I'm fine. You can go."


	17. No Escape

Act IV

Scene 4

No Escape

The angular shape of the Batwing rumbled through the sky, the sound being the only evidence of its otherwise untraceable path across the pitch black sky back to the glittering spires of Gotham in the distance. Inside the craft, a weary Bruce Wayne left the controls on autopilot as he retired to the narrow confines of the fuselage. He placed a gloved hand against the wall and his suit was removed via the ship's automation systems. He opened a panel next to the suit's storage pod which dispensed a civilian change of clothes consisting on black pants and a tight fitting white t-shirt.

Moments later and the craft's cloaking device activated. The ship glided sightlessly around the gothic structures and over the quiet streets of Gotham. Finally the craft hovered to a stand-still a few feet away from a ninth story window of a nondescript brick building on Bleake Island. Bruce slapped a hand against a button on the wall and the ramp at the back of the craft opened.

There to greet Bruce at the window was an expectant looking Diana Prince, her hair blowing gently from the slight air motion caused by the Batwing's gently thrumming engines. Otherwise, aside from a slight distortion of the air around the craft when viewed close up, the plane was almost entirely invisible to the naked eye. It was something that had always left Diana in a genuine state of awe. She simply had to have one of her own, even though she knew she probably couldn't begin to fathom just how much Wayne Tech R&D had been sunk into this invisible wonder. So it was without too much effort that she held out a hand and guided Bruce off the craft and through the window of her apartment.

Bruce ran his fingers through his hair as he took a quick scan around Diana's apartment. Though he had long known her address, he had never actually taken the time to visit, and he was beginning to regret that he hadn't. There were times he regretted being so attached to his crumbling castle back on the mainland, since Diana's place was the very picture of urban style, with furniture selected and arranged like something out of a magazine, a brick accent wall, and various antiques littered about the place, probably items that had been gifted to Diana by their creators. It was with all this in mind that Bruce was forced to let out an impressed whistle as Diana shut the window and turned to face him. "Nice place you've got here," he commented.

Diana crossed her arms and leaned against the window. "The results of your CitiVision project," she thanked.

Bruce smirked as he ventured a few steps further into the residence and briefly toyed with a very old looking bronze scale set on a pedestal. "I only give to CitiVision as part of my philanthropic responsibilities. It's my friends who shoulder most of that burden."

"It was your concept," Diana pointed out as she uncrossed her arms, stood up and walked nearer to Bruce. "You don't give yourself enough credit," she purred as she touched his arm with one hand and balanced the swaying scale with the other.

"Okay, you may not have that magic rope of yours, but I think I'll tell you the truth anyway," Bruce announced with a smug look as he turned to face Diana. His expression vaporized when he noticed that aside from an overlarge sweater and underwear, Diana wasn't wearing anything else. Her brown hair fell down in wispy tangles around her shoulders and she had actually taken the time to do her nails; a concession, Bruce suspected, for her visit to the White House. Still, Diana's state of attire was informal to say the least and he was caught utterly off guard causing him to verbally stumble before continuing with his otherwise confident statement. "I, uh, my philanthropic work is all a delightful game I play with the authorities so I can duck a few taxes. When you get to be as wealthy as I am, you end up having to give away millions one way or another and I prefer to have more say in how it gets dispersed. CitiVision is only one of many such efforts. It's a family tradition, in fact. And if my money ends up turning run down sections of crime ridden city into bars and lofts crawling with hipster socialites, all the better."

"Hmm, I would have never figured you to be such a consummate scofflaw," Diana said as she leaned herself against Bruce's arm and traced circles on his chest with her fingertips.

Bruce gently grabbed her hand and returned it to her side. "In order to become… what I become at night, it takes a certain amount of disregard for the law."

"Ah, is that why Bruce Wayne was at the White House tonight?" Diana asked with a grin.

Bruce shook his head as he brushed Diana off his arm and paced back to the window. "Bruce Wayne was not at the White House tonight. The Dark Knight was, and he found out a few things about the fate of the friend we just lost."

The look on Diana's features grew grim. She gripped the bevel of the scales as she wondered aloud, "I hope you made that man pay for what he did to Clark. No amount of blood and broken bones is too harsh for him."

Bruce spun and fixed Diana with a hard stare. "That's not how I operate!" he declared forcefully. Diana looked taken aback but he continued on as he turned back to the window and placed a raised hand on the top of the frame. He looked down at the streets below and explained, "Besides, I couldn't have brought myself to do it even if I had wanted to. Perhaps… perhaps I saw what Clark saw in him after all these years… a frail old man with a fading memory whose only desire is to retire back to his ranch in peace. I've seen the look of fear in the eyes of I don't know how many criminals, but the look in his eyes was different. He capitulated so easily. No, he's not the one we should be worried about."

Diana threw up her hands and said, "Then who is it? I cried for a day and a night after you sent me that footage, and I want to know who's responsible!"

Bruce took a deep breath and let out, "It was the very person I sent you to see: Miss Wells. After all those years working for me, I figured she would be more loyal. Clark made a lot of enemies after his battle with Zod that killed so many in Metropolis and I guess she was one of them. When Wayne Enterprises stopped creating anti-Kryptonian technology in the wake of the creation of the League, she must have figured she would achieve the destruction of Superman by other means. It means she lied to me when she resigned Wayne Enterprises for the President's cabinet purely for professional reasons. I knew she was taking a pay cut but I figured it was the allure of working for a President. Just another in a long line of bad assumptions I've made about people over the years," he finished bitterly.

Diana approached Bruce and wrapped her arms around him as she leaned her head against his back. "This is dire news indeed," she acknowledged in that slightly dated speech of hers. "What are we going to do?"

Bruce shook his head. "I don't know. The listening device I left in the residence picked up that they were moving the President and his staff to the bunker at Mount Weather. I couldn't discern their reasons why or if it had to do with me, but I imagine Miss Wells will be with him after what I just learned tonight. That place is a fortress Diana. Not even all the fire power of my car could see me in there and there's no sneaking in, trust me."

"I always do," Diana returned. "That's why I followed the instructions you left with the Afghanistan footage to the letter while I was at the White House."

"Something I'm very grateful for," Bruce thanked. "Without the aid, I wouldn't have been able to get past the security. Still, something tells me that wasn't all that happened while you were there," Bruce gathered.

"My mother was there," stated Diana.

Bruce turned and gently held Diana by the arms while looking concerned. "Hippolyta? What was she doing outside Themyscira?"

Diana smiled wanly. "That was my first question as well." Then her expression grew serious. "She knows about Darkseid's fleet. She came to warn the President, except…"

"Except Miss Wells told you he was unavailable," Bruce finished for her.

"Yes, how did you know?" Diana asked.

"Lucky guess," Bruce mumbled as he raised a hand from Diana's arm to rub the stubble on his chin pensively.

Diana let out a small harrumph before jabbing a finger into Bruce's chest. "You know what; you've been ignoring my directive. I told you no more nocturnal outings until I gave you permission. You've been bad."

Bruce shrugged. "I figured given all that's happened recently, you might give me a pass to do some reconnoitering, and judging by your lack of interference, in fact, dare I say you're cooperation, I was correct in that assumption."

A smile returned to Diana's face as she took a few steps backward and leaned against a nearby table. "So what now Bat boy? We know we're being hunted. We know who's responsible, and there's a terrible iron faced menace with a heavily armed space fleet bent on Armageddon headed our way, all the while our friends up in the tower are resolved to do nothing… less than nothing. They're going to roll back our ability to respond."

"Once again, I honestly don't know what we should do. That's why I came to visit you. To plan and… to think," Bruce reiterated.

"I don't know how much longer we have to do that, but you're welcome to stick around for as long as you'd like," Diana offered as she gestured around her apartment. "Although" she demurred as a sudden thought clearly came across her mind. "I think it's only fair. If you're going to be using my place as a base of operations, then I think it's only fair that I get a peek inside your fancy jet."

Bruce looked befuddled as he replied, "The Batwing? Why would you want to see in there?"

A mischievous look curled its way around Diana's lips. "Come on," she urged. "I've shown you mine. Now show me yours."

There was a tense silence for a beat before Bruce shrugged again and conceded with a wave, "Sure, why not. Be warned, though, there's not a lot of head space."

"We'll see about that," Diana purred as she followed Bruce out the window and onto the ramp that appeared out of the air. The inside of the Batwing was indeed a little small. There was a seat in the back which doubled as a passenger seat and an ejector seat, while the other side of the hull held an array of gadgets and armor, including pods housing a few variations on the Bat suit. An overhead display showed a heat map of the surrounding area, and a list of other smaller icons on the screen could be tapped to full screen which would show items like ship vitals, human vitals, tactical readouts and even the latest police data.

Once they reached the pilot seat, Bruce proceeded to explain the various functions of all the switches and lights on the control board. Diana nodded along in polite bliss as her eyes darted between the objects Bruce was pointing to and his sizable bicep. At one point she was sure he noticed her doing this, but whether he did or not, he made no mention of it as he plowed ahead with his proud descriptions of the Batwing's technology. Finally Diana grew bored enough that she reached out a hand and asked, "And what does this switch do?" She flipped a red switch and the interior of the Batwing glowed orange for a second as a gout of flames shot out the front of the craft.

The flames were quickly dowsed when Bruce slammed the switch back into place. Looking a little flustered he said, "That, is the flamethrower."

"Oh Hera, I'm so sorry!" Diana exclaimed through giggles as she slumped against the console to Bruce's right side. Her giggles soon evolved into a fit of laughter and after a time, even Bruce felt himself infected by the contagiousness of Diana's laughter, a sound of delight so innocent and genuine that its effect on him had always been difficult to deny.

At length, their laughter died down, and the look on Bruce's face burned down to a serious scowl, forcing Diana to ask, "What's wrong Bruce?"

Bruce sighed, collapsed into the pilot seat and rubbed his eye with the palm of his hand. "Nothing," he breathed. "It's just… a few weeks ago, I was at rock bottom. Jason was dead, Barbara was fighting for her life, and all I wanted was to be alone." Bruce looked up at Diana with sudden tears in his eyes. "But of all the people I know, you were the one person who would not honor that wish. And now I find out that Jason is alive and Barbara is going to recover, and all this shit with Clark… Through all of it, you never lost hope in me. You saw me as necessary when no one else, not even myself, thought so."

Diana sat up and reached out a hand to Bruce's face. "That's because you are, Bruce. You're the best of us. You saw all this coming when no one else could. We're lost without you. I was wrong to tell you to hold back who you are during the night. You _are_ the night, and I had no right to deprive you of that."

Bruce gently rested his hand on Diana's outstretched arm and rubbed it as he responded, "No, you had every right. I was needlessly endangering myself because I thought there was nothing left to fight for." He turned his head and looked deep into Diana's eyes. "You showed me how wrong I was."

Diana could feel the tears starting to well up in her own eyes as she beheld the look of pure sincerity in Bruce's face. "You know," she said. "You can be a stubborn bastard sometimes, but I'm never going to give up on you, not even in the face of the end of the world. I'll always keep fighting for you Bruce… because I love you, and I'm never going to let you forget that."

For a time, the pair just sat there in a stunned silence. Then, almost without warning, Diana leaned in and gave Bruce a short kiss. She tried backing away but Bruce grabbed her by the back of the head and brought her in for a longer, deeper kiss. It was all Diana could do to resist the over powering desire to let herself just fall into this man, and after a time she surrendered to the feeling when the tension in her knees gave out.

Bruce shot his arms out and grabbed the woman by the torso. He held her close as she laid her hands gently on his shoulders while they continued to kiss. Then he hoisted her with some effort into his lap. There they broke apart for a moment and looked at each other. Diana looked mystic and ethereal with her hair in wild tangles about her shoulders and with the starry night sky behind her, shown through the pilot's viewport. The lighting inside the craft gave her features a neon overlay which combined with her bewitching stare to make for an enrapturing sight.

As Bruce sat underneath her, Diana could see that characteristic look of calm come back over the man she had desired for so long. No longer was there a man broken by the horrors of loss, but a man with renewed conviction. His gaze was hawkish as it pierced through to her very soul. It was almost enough to make her feel a sense of fear at what this man was capable of, but she didn't care. She trusted him completely.

Before too long, they continued their kissing. Diana reached down and forcefully ripped Bruce's shirt open in a small show of her otherworldly strength. She wanted him. She wanted every part and nothing was going to stand in her way. The blind furry of passion had seized her completely and there was now no escape.

As she reached down to unbuckle his pants, Bruce stood up and brought the Amazon into the air with his arms secured around her thighs. Her legs locked around his back as he threw off her sweater and moved the strap of her underwear aside.

Diana felt the ice cold of the viewport window as Bruce backed her into it. The cold of the glass stung against her skin of her body which had grown white hot. She could feel even more heat starting to gather in each cheek as she started to blush. There they continued, their breathing growing more and more ragged until finally Bruce threw her onto the control console and their breathing started to syncopate.

Bruce was shocked at the intensity to which his feelings for this woman had grown in the years since he'd first met Diana. At first he had dismissed her feelings as nothing but a schoolyard crush, and it had taken him years until finally, now he understood. In all the tragedy, in all the pain, she had been and would always be there for him. He hadn't known true love until this very moment and it filled him with a sense of wonder. How could he have been so blind? The world had seemed so dark, so unforgiving, and now he held the answer to it in his arms. He could feel her breath against his face, the slight sensation of moisture on his fingers as he brushed sweat from her face, and he could feel the intense heat of her body against his as they moved together faster and faster until they could go no more. At that point, Diana's hand darted out and raked the controls, flipping the flamethrower switch once again and sending a great white gout of flame blazing into the night.


	18. The Symphony of Apokolips

Deep in the night sky on the far side of Ganymede, a few bright blips of light flashed and went out in less than the blink of an eye. At first, the various monitors of the celestial neighborhood continued on their rounds, blissfully unaware of the predator that had entered their midst. Yet as a trio of large, unidentified objects blasted away from the area where the flashes of light had gone off and rocketed from planet to planet, growing ever closer to the solar core, certain of the satellites, dishes, towers, and eventually the more expensive brands of backyard telescopes began pointing their opticals in the direction of the approaching strangers. As they drew near to the blue marble that was their destination, the powerful space monitoring devices put out by governments and space agencies sized them up. They were long, ridged looking planks made out of some undiscernible metallic looking substance that oscillated and shimmered as they reflected the sunlight. Two of the ships were smaller; almost half the size of the central ship they were flanking which, at that very moment, officials were starting to remark was almost the size of Manhattan. And aboard that central ship, in a recess deep within its cybernetic bowls, sat a hunched, brooding and sinister intellect who gazed through transparent vid screens showing the various planetary broadcasts all speculating on the nature of the craft. He saw through the screens at the blue marble that now took up most of the outer display used by the navigators in the pit below him as a visual reference in the vastness of space. He saw the blue marble and his brow furrowed in rage at the sight. Circling the planet in a tight, desperate arc was the comparatively ramshackle looking tower that housed his foes. _Kal El_ the intellect thought. _Where are you, last son of Krypton?_

One of his servants, the gangly, gray skinned, cloaked figure of Desaad, looked up from his control panel station which was located near to wear his master was now seated. The robed humanoid turned to his master with a sweeping bow and declared in a voice that could have belonged to the serpent of Eden, "Your forces await your command, sire."

There was a tense pause, and then the intellect raised his hand into the air almost lazily. At this gesture, a grin split across the face of the servant Desaad, and he turned to the other beings in the pit with arms held wide and screeched, "Commence the attack!"

As the various Earthling news casts puzzled and speculated over the nature of the cosmic visitors, claxons were sounding on the Watchtower. Those who currently manned the perilous station knew all too well the nature of those ships and even now were bitterly cursing the Earth governments for disarming their most powerful weapons just before the arrival of such a dreaded nemesis. Then came the long streaking lines that originated from the strange ships and reached across the vastness of space towards the tower. In that vastness, it would have been nearly impossible to make out the tiny white pixels which broke off from the tower, but upon closer observation with higher power telescopes, one could see just enough to determine that these were, in fact, escape pods being jettisoned from the tower. Not all were able to make it away from the station in time before the beams of light from the ships reached the tower and disintegrated it, leaving those below in a mixture of shock and horror. Now the television programs broadcasting into the void speculated not on the nature of the ships, but on who among their greatest defenders did not make it off the station in time.

Desaad grinned maniacally as he watched the action unfold on his view screen, but when he turned and beheld the face of his dread master, he was surprised to find the same look of dour concentration carved thereupon. The dark mind lifted his hand a second time and Desaad gave the order to the other ship crews. Before long, a hundred smaller craft had begun detaching themselves from their places on the main craft like a school of fish clinging to the body of a great whale. Soon a red light came on above the head of the leader of the fleet and a metallic warning noise sounded. His throne descended into the floor, its progress through the bowels of his ship growing more and more rapid until it reached a pinnacle and suddenly slowed to a gentle rest at the center of the deck of his interdictor cruiser. The cruiser detached itself from the command ship and the master watched as his slaves carefully glided the ship through the thin, foreign atmosphere of the blue planet.

When the ship rocketed out of the clouds and descended towards the city of Metropolis, the once shining city was already littered with smoke and flames. The insignificant aircrafts of the natives crawled through the air and hurled their puny explosive weapons uselessly against the cruiser's power shields which disintegrated them a few feet from the shining hull of the ship in a spray of particulates. The master watched with satisfaction as his slaves intuited his order and used the cruisers ventral canons to swat the native ships from the sky with minimal effort.

As the ship passed over the main part of the city, energy beams sprayed out from the hull and raked the streets destroying vehicles, military weapons, and carving away the supports of buildings. The natives were in full retreat by the time the real competition arrived within scanning range. The master ordered his slaves to bring the ship down near the city's largest central park and they wasted no time in complying.

When the ship came down upon its freshly extended metal landing appendages, a ramp opened up before the throne. As the master rose from the chair it folded itself back into the floor. A long metal staff rose from that same floor and the hand of the sinister destroyer grabbed it in an iron grip before the ramp levitated him to the surface of the planet he had come to subjugate. He could feel the armored suit he was wearing begin to pressurize around his body to compensate with the change in atmosphere as he passed through an air lock. The slight green flicker of the atmospheric mask that encompassed his head danced at the edges of his vision.

As he set his first, giant booted step upon the mushy soil of this alien world, _a soft world and a soft people,_ he heard his name called by a defiant sounding voice. He looked ahead to see the glimmering sight of the Queen of the Amazons, flanked by the warriors she had brought with her to this place to defy him. They looked imposing in their plated armor and winged helms, but the sight only gave the dark lord momentary pause. He listened halfheartedly to the woman's words of challenge and then waited for the inevitable charge, and before long his patience was rewarded.

As the Amazons rushed him in an encircling maneuver, the dark lord almost felt a little disappointed at the predictability of this encounter. Then he drove both his fists into the ground, creating a shockwave that threw the Amazons back just as they were about to reach him. Then, one by one, he proceeded to methodically break them; hurling them into distant buildings, cracking bones, eviscerating them with untold volts from his laser vision, and blasting them with shockwaves emanating from the power crystals located in the palms of his gauntlets.

The women tried nobly to defend their leader as they battled with the great, stone faced invader all across the city, smashing through cars and toppling over buildings, but in the end, it was just between the Queen Hippolyta and the nightmare Darkseid as the latter cast aside the last of the former's shield maidens.

Hippolyta sat hunched against a pile of rubble near the top of one of Metropolis's many spires. A great thicket of pipes and wiring sprayed and sputtered in a charged cloud of smoke before her, creating a menacing sight when Darkseid levitated through it. Wiping the blood from her mouth, Hippolyta raised her voice one last time, though now it had lost much of the defiance of earlier. Now it was a scratching, ragged sound as she formed the words, "Earth will never be yours. You've already lost. The thing you came for is already gone. There is nothing for you here. Go home or you will be destroyed. Whether it be today in battle or a hundred years of slow, steady resistance, you will come to regret the day you ever came here."

"It no longer matters if what I have come for is here or not," the dark lord replied in his low, cracking, rocky voice. "The people of Earth must know the price for defying Darkseid. There is only one possible outcome now."

Hippolyta cast a defeated look to the Earth before her. Then, seemingly with renewed resolve, she looked up into the eyes of her foe and spat, "Come on then, do you worst!"

She rose to her feet and barely had time to heft her sword one last time before Darkseid closed the distance between them and swatted the blade away. Then he picked up the Amazon by the neck. The woman flailed weakly as Darkseid finally began to crack a smile. Then he hurled the woman through an opening in the wall and watched with cool satisfaction as the woman's body plummeted dozens of stories down to disappear in a cloud of street dust. Then he turned his gaze back to the skyline of the city that his greatest enemy once so cherished. He breathed deep the filtered alien atmosphere and took in the distant screams and sounds of battle. He had returned after all these years to the one planet he could not conquer, and this time he was already starting to feel at home.


	19. Fire from the Flames

Music played lightly at the edges of Bruce's mind as it teetered on the edge of sleep. Finally he stirred with a groan which he quickly silenced when he remembered where he was. The pilot's chair of the Batwing had been adjusted down to create the small bed upon which Bruce and Diana were laying, wrapped in each other's arms, with a small blanket fetched from the apartment draped over their otherwise unclothed bodies.

It was then that Bruce noticed the flashing red light on the vehicle dashboard. Reaching over gently so as not to disturb the still slumbering Diana, Bruce tapped a button on the display and the resulting readouts that materialized on the screen were dire. He shook Diana awake. "Come on, get dressed," he said. "We have to leave now."

"Morning already?" a still sleep addled Diana mumbled. "Your jet is cloaked. It's not like anyone is going to see it. Besides, I don't need clothes to scramble eggs."

"Those weren't the kinds of clothes I was referring to," Bruce said dourly as he pointed Diana's attention to the display.

Her face grew grim as she saw the readings. Then she said in a suddenly clear voice, "I'll get my things."

Moments later the Batwing was tracing an invisible arc across the waters of the bay which were glittering reflections of the morning sun and the flames of the city. The jet roared over a series of burning buildings and sprayed water from a series of downward facing nozzles located on the lower part of the plane. To those below, it appeared as though some extraordinarily convenient rainfall simply dropped out of a clear sky to deaden the flames. Then, later on, a host of people trapped inside a subway station suddenly found a new passageway blasted open for them and they streamed out in the rubble strewn streets expecting to be greeted by emergency responders, only to be greeted instead with the distant sound of a sonic boom and the astonished looks on the faces of the firefighters and EMS teams that had been struggling for hours to rescue them.

Bruce looked at the various displays spewing information across his screen as the autopilot set emergency priorities. One of the alien ships had hovered over the skies above Gotham city and was discharging volleys of weapons and legions of the familiar winged creatures Clark had once referred to as parademons to wreak yet more havoc across the town. Among the multitude of emergency alerts scrolling across the screen was one for Gotham General Hospital and Bruce's eyes went wide. He overrode the autopilot and brought the craft into a sharp turn before blasting off in the direction of the hospital.

Seconds later and the Batwing had entered the cloud of billowing black smoke which had enveloped the hospital like a hostile atmosphere. As the craft hovered above the roof of the building, the smoke made the sky so black as to be almost mistaken for night. The light from the interior of the craft momentarily pierced the veil as the exit ramp opened and discharged the fierce Diana, replete in her battle armor which shone white against the light of the craft. The light quickly faded as the ramp shut and the craft hovered away. Meanwhile, Diana unsheathed her sword and used the pommel of it to smash through the roof and into a flaming hallway to search for anyone in the building who might still be alive.

Meanwhile, the Batwing hovered beyond the edge of the roof and lowered itself down. Bruce activated the powerful searchlight located at the front of the plane and swiveled the craft from side to side so he could scan the windows for any sign of people still left in any of the rooms. Here and there he caught a glimpse of Diana as she flew down different hallways and into different rooms to rescue people, her armor giving off a telltale glint from the reflection of the searchlight. A warning light buzzed to tell Bruce that the Batwing's engines were passing into first stage heat exhaustion. After pushing the plane so hard, the air vents were blasting massive contrails in the smoke as the plane descended.

Finally, Bruce laid eyes on his target. In a room surrounded by flames, a still slumbering Barbara Gordon lay in bed as the monitors taped to her body were going off in alarm. The room was flooded with the light of the Batwing's search light and just a few seconds later the giant form of a bat smashed through the windows and went into a roll across the floor. Bruce recovered as gracefully as ever and took quick steps to the bedside of his former collaborator. He checked her vital signs and looked her over with an undeniable sense of increasing panic. "No, no, no," he was whispering to himself. "Don't die on me, don't you die on me!"

Outside the black cloud of the burning building, Jim Gordon looked on helplessly. He could feel his throat go tense and tears start to well up at the edges of his eyes. He couldn't bear to simply look at it anymore and had to turn and walk away, tersely telling the lieutenant that the young man now had control of the situation… what was left of it, anyway.

Jim ducked down an alleyway and slumped against the brick siding of one of the buildings, the tears starting to come in fits and starts. He had never considered himself a crying man, but the thought of letting down his wife was now almost too much for him to be able to stomach.

Just as he thought he was about to lose his lunch, he heard the sound of a low rumble coming from just above him. Seemingly out of thin air, a ramp appeared and standing at the end of it was the caped figure he had once feared, but had come to respect. And in the arms of the caped figure was draped the slumbering, red headed, bundled form of his precious Barbara. As Batman descended the ramp and set foot on the rotten ground of the alley, Gordon could feel his tears of despair turning into tears of joy.

Batman handed Barbara to Jim and the commissioner was shocked to find how light she had become. Nevertheless, she was alive and that was all that mattered. He looked up into the eyes of her rescuer and shuttered, "Thank you."

Bruce gave a slight shake of his head. "No need to thank me, but when she wakes up, you can tell her for me that I said I was sorry… for everything."

Through the din of a city in chaos, a familiar if croaky voice replied, "She heard you."

Bruce felt his face light up as he saw the mop of red hair at the end of the blanketed bundle in Jim's arms start to turn, revealing a lily white, freckled face.

Barbara fixed Bruce with her characteristic warm smile and said with a wink, "and she forgives you… for everything. Now you just go and give 'em hell… for me."


	20. Honor and Vengeance

The moon's reflection rippled and shimmered in the waters of the bay just before they were parted by a blast from the Batwing's engines. Now that it was night there was no longer a need for the battery taxing cloaking device, so Bruce had switched it off in order to conserve the ship's energy. The craft had been going for almost seven hours straight without a break, and judging by the smoldering skylines of the twin cities of Gotham and Metropolis in the distance, there was no end in sight.

After reaching a satisfactory distance out to sea, Bruce jammed a button on the control console. A port on the bottom of the aircraft whined open and dropped a metallic colored, egg shaped charge into the waters in a swift splash. The port closed and the Batwing climbed and swerved through the air towards the Metropolis end of the bay. The city quickly loomed large on the displays and Bruce was forced to lower his speed so he could navigate around the shattered buildings and flaming rubble. Before he could get very far into the city airspace, however, a low female voice came from the back of the craft and urgently commanded him to stop. Diana had been keeping her eyes on the monitors, looking for the next highest priority target to either rescue or destroy as the plight of the civilians and the threat of the invaders had sorted themselves out. Now the look on Diana's face was dire and Bruce decided not to argue. He took the Batwing into a steep dive, and the smoke and flames blasted out in a ring around where the ship lowered itself down.

Without a word of explanation, Diana slammed the button to open the exit ramp and she leapt out of the craft while they were still dozens of feet in the air. She crashed down into the street below with a force that would have shattered the bones of any regular human, but for Diana the street merely cracked beneath her boots. She rose to full height and dashed through the rubble until she found what she had glimpsed briefly on the monitor; the body of an Amazonian warrior lying face down in the wreckage of a building. Diana slid to her knees next to the body. She could already feel the tears starting to well up in her eyes as she reached for it, hesitated, and then turned it over. The blank face of her mother stared back at her and she let out a gasp of aguish.

Almost as if he had appeared there by magic, Bruce was standing next to her, looking grim beneath the dark face of his helm. He reached down with two pointed fingers and felt the pulse on the neck of the vanquished queen. Then he adjusted the sights on his helm's opticals, checking for any trace of other vitals. Finally, with a long sigh, he laid a hand on Diana's shoulder and declared, "I'm sorry Diana… she's gone."

Images of his own mother's face came blaring into Bruce's thoughts as Diana collapsed into his arms sobbing. It was all happening again. The images came in brief, staccato bursts: the pistol, the shot, the pearls, the blood, the screams, the look on his mother's face as she wheezed out "Bruuuuce" for the final time, the dilation in the pupils of her eyes as they went as dark as his soul would responsively become. The look on the face of Hippolyta was eerily similar. So it was with a solemn resolve that he reached out a hand and gently lowered the dead queen's eyelids.

He and Diana just sat there for a time as the world went to pieces around them. At last, Bruce croaked in a voice thick with sympathy, "Come on, she wouldn't want us to just sit here. I'll load her onto the car. We'll give her a burial fit for a queen… as soon as we bring her killer to justice."

Diana looked up into his eyes. Her own eyes were shot through with red as she growled, "Then let's go."

Minutes later Hippolyta's body had been draped with one of Bruce's spare capes. The Batmobile raced through the streets on remote and they loaded the body into the passenger compartment in the back.

Once the car raced off out of the city, Bruce and Diana returned to the Batwing. Bruce was about to take command of the craft once again when he thought better of it. He turned and watched Diana slowly walk aboard, the look on her face a mixture of grief and rage. He approached her and laid his hands on her shoulders. "Hey," he said, "Are you with me? I need you to be focused if we're going to make it through the night."

Diana's hands balled into fists which caused the leather in the palms of her gloves to crackle lightly. "I want to tear them all apart… every last one of them!"

"No," Bruce stated authoritatively as he quickly lifted Diana's head with a light touch of the chin. "You can't go into this fight with that kind of mindset. If you do, your enemies will take advantage of you. So are you angry?"

Diana nodded her head vigorously as she smeared away a few more tears with a lazy wipe of the hand.

"Anger makes you weak," Bruce insisted. "Our foes did this to you in order to make you this way. They want you to get emotional. They want you to start thinking with your brawn and not your brains. If you want to avenge Hippolyta's death, it can't be about vengeance itself. It has to be about justice."

"What does it matter how I feel?" Diana hissed back. "What does it matter what this is about? You get vengeance on the same criminals who murdered your parents and call it justice, but it's all the same. Don't patronize me with your ridiculous claims of a higher cause. Now come on, let's go."

Diana tried to brush past Bruce but he held his ground with a firm hand to her chest. "The criminal who murdered my parents is dead," Bruce admitted in a suddenly somber tone. "In the years before I became who I am now… I stood by and did nothing as he was murdered; yet another victim of the circle of crime and vengeance that had consumed my city long before it consumed my parents."

The look on Diana's face changed from the rage it had been to one of sudden shame. "But I always thought…" she started and then trailed off.

"You thought my crusade against crime was about vengeance," Bruce finished. He cast a thoughtful look at the ground as he continued, "I know… so did I for a time. But after a while I realized that there was nothing that was going to bring my parents back, but that didn't mean that I should still do nothing. When I returned to Gotham, I started my mission against the evil forces which had infected it because it was the right thing to do. I _honor_ my parents' memory, and I lose sleep trying to make sure what happened to them never happens to anyone else, but I don't labor under the illusion that what I do is for some sort of revenge."

Diana swayed where she stood. Her shoulders slumped and she asked earnestly, "You said you started out that way, though. How did you do it? How did you make it about justice and not revenge, because the only feeling I have in my heart right now is hate for the monster who did this."

Bruce took a deep breath and explained, "It would be naïve of me to say I overcame the need for revenge entirely, or else I wouldn't be out here right now, but leveling the playing field became my main motivation in much the same way that it ceased to be after… after I thought I lost Jason and Barbara. It took forces of incredible darkness for me to see that I must learn to wield the darkness in order to defeat it, but stray too far and you can _become_ the darkness you wish to destroy." Bruce reached a gentle hand out to Diana's cheek. "Don't let your hate consume you. Use it. I will help you in every way I can, but you have to decide your own motivations. You told me yourself that if I couldn't believe in myself and my ability to continue to do good in the world anymore, then I had no business becoming the Dark Knight. You showed me the way, and now I just want to make sure you follow your own advice."

After a long pause, a look of understanding and new resolve came into Diana's eyes as they suddenly stared up into Bruce's. "You're right," she declared. "We have to be smart about this. This enemy is too great for us to just go in with blind rage… Thank you for being so patient."

Bruce smirked. "Now you finally know how that feels." They both chuckled for a bit and, after a brief pause, shared a kiss. When they broke apart, Bruce leapt into the pilot's chair and powered the Batwing back up and brought it soaring into the sky.

Within moments of being airborne again, Bruce had to quickly throw the craft into a spiral to avoid the massive looming shape of the alien ship as it emerged from behind a building. The control panel lit up red with threat vectors and a claxon sounded to drive home the warning of incoming projectiles. Bruce slammed on the countermeasures and the craft sent chaff flying into the air in a desperate hope that the enemy projectiles were heat seeking. When a series of angling beams of light vaporized their way through the countermeasures, however, Bruce yelled, "Hold on!" to the woman in the back who had her hands clenched on a suspension hook in the ceiling of the plane. She looked like she was about to be sick with all of the motion which made Bruce feel all the more worse when he was forced to bank and turn sharply, dodging around buildings and flinging his way through the sky. The engines toiled against exhaustion and Bruce knew somewhere in the back of his mind that he was not going to be able to keep this up forever, so a thrilling idea popped into his head and he swung the craft around in a wide arc reaching out into the bay, the waters of which were sliced by flaring engines and streaking energy beams.

As the alien ship loomed large on the display once again and began to grow ever larger as they raced towards it, the look on Diana's face went from distress to panic. "Bruce?" was all she could initially manage to say as the craft shot straight for the alien capital ship. "Bruce!" she yelled, this time more as a means of protest, just before she realized that they were going to crash into the ship at full speed. She had one last chance to scream his name before her voice was forced into a grunt at the impact of the craft into the side of the alien ship.

The Batwing plowed into the metal hull of the ship at an angle causing it to skid along the side, burrowing deep into the steel and shedding large chunks of itself as it went. The beams that had been chasing them collided with the side of the ship and exploded in a spectacular display of light and flame. By the time the Batwing came to a halt, it was a level or two inside the alien ship which was now lurching precariously in the sky after the impact of its own weapons, and all that remained of the Batwing itself was the fuselage containing its two passengers.

Diana brought herself back to her feet after having been thrown by the violence of the crash. She brushed a few arrant strands of hair out of her face and then a few arrant tangles of the Batwing's wiring after that. Needless she was supremely displeased and reflected this dissatisfaction in her first words to the pilot. "What in Hera's name were you thinking?"

Bruce rose from the pilot's chair and flipped a few more switches on the dashboard to check what systems remained and to turn them off if necessary. "The weapons on Darkseid's ship were designed for interstellar war so it stands to reason that they'll do more damage to his own ship than anything we could throw at him. Other than that," Bruce said with a grin, "I'll be honest, I had no idea if we were going to survive or not."

Diana let out something between a grunt and a wail as she was reminded yet again of just how single minded Bruce could be some times. She didn't have anything to counter his statement with, though, since she knew as well as he did that they were in the risk taking business, and sometimes you had to play everything you had if you were going to stop evil from winning the day. So instead of arguing, she drew her sword and said, "Well that's great, so what now?"

Bruce grew stern as he flicked a batarang from his belt. It snapped into shape in his hand and a red button blinked in the center of it indicating its explosive nature. "Now," he said, "We take this thing out of the sky, and hopefully the leader with it." The Amazonian couldn't help but smile at the implication.

By the time the occupants were ready to emerge, the wreckage of the Batwing had already been surrounded by a troop of winged parademons. They were caught off guard when the back of the Batwing exploded off its hinges and a fully armored Amazon flew out, yelling a battle cry and slashing away at the drones. A few black specs flew out from the crashed craft and exploded into some of the parademons sending them spiraling away. Then batman emerged from the plane and pumped his fist towards the ground. Three batwing shaped claws extended from his hand and he sliced away the first parademon that tried to assail him. The creature let out a shriek and stumbled backwards. Bruce let out a sigh. It was going to be a long way to the command deck.

And indeed a long way later there was a violent thrashing noise being made against the exterior of the imposing blast doors that separated the command deck from the rest of the ship. The creatures within had ceased their studious piloting of the ship to stare at the door, their eyes full of apprehension at the noise and the increasing size of the dent in the steel. No one was more filled with terror than the stooped form of Steppenwolf as he cowered behind his command consol. So it was with an audible cry that he reacted to the sight of the door smashing in and flying through the room to crash into the far wall just behind him. Nestled in the dent was the broken form of a parademon who fell from the wreckage of the door lifelessly to the floor.

Out of the smoke which poured into the room came the shining sight of Diana, resplendent in her battle armor. She held her sword out and called down the hall, "Your guards have been defeated and your ship crippled. Surrender command to us or face destruction!"

Steppenwolf looked confused. He squinted at the smoke behind Diana but no one else entered after the woman so he was forced to assume she was alone. "Who is this "us" you speak of?" he then asked. "I see only a single warrior before me, and the number of paradeomons I have here in this room is more than enough to overwhelm you."

"Sure you want to test that?" A dark voice said from behind Steppenwolf. The stooped humanoid's shoulders hiked in fear and his eyes went wide. Then he turned his head slowly to see the bat-eared creature of the Justice League standing right behind him with a bared batarang. He quickly turned his head back to see that the Amazon was much closer now. He threw up his hands and said, "As you wish! The ship is yours."

Diana smiled warmly, "Thank you sir… now get out." Moments later and Steppenwolf and all the parademons had leapt from the ship into the city below only to be immediately menaced by the converging forces of the human military. After this had all been accomplished, Diana sheathed her sword, placed her hands on her hips and said to Bruce, "Well, no Darkseid on this ship, so what now?"

"We find him," Bruce said as he scanned the various monitors on the command bridge overhead. Finally his eyes landed on a monitor that displayed their quarry, floating above the city central park. A large yellow omega icon hovered above him on the monitor and Bruce quickly spotted the same icon on Steppenwolf's control consol. After some more reverse engineering and more than a few lucky guesses, Bruce managed to get the ship to start hovering forward again. It wasn't far to the park where Darkseid was wreaking havoc. Bruce grabbed the ship navigation stick and throttled it right at the stone fleshed terror. Without warning, the ship collided right into the hovering figure and then ploughed into the ground of the park. After that, the engines died and the consoles went dark.

"Did we get him?" Diana asked.

"There's only one way to find out," Bruce replied. He headed to one of the now many gaps in the ship's hull allowing access to the outside and shot a grapnel to a distant building. He swung out of the ship and Diana leapt through the sky after him. They both eventually landed on the ground near to the nose of the ship which was buried in the ground along with, they hoped, the leader of the invasion.

For a long while, all they could hear was the sound of wreckage smoldering and burning. Then an ominous crashing sound came from behind them. Before they had time to react, however, Darkseid was already upon them. His stone fist smashed into the back of Bruce's helm and his other hand smacked Diana out of the way before she had time to draw her sword. They both went flying apart and skidded to a stop in the distant dirt.

Bruce rose from the ground, his vision bleary from the impact, and his suit's HUD flickering. He gave his helm a few light taps which stung horribly after the impact, but the display steadied. He saw that Darkseid had apparently assessed Diana to be the greater of the two threats and gone after her first.

Before his laser vision reached her, however, Diana had brought her sword out in a flash and used the flat of the blade to reflect the beams back at their originator. They collided back into Darkseid and he let out a roar of pain. "Once I am done here, I vow Themyscira will be next!" he bellowed.

"Once you're done here, you will be in the ground," Diana seethed back. Darkseid roared again and charged after his opponent. Diana managed to block his first strike, but his second caught her off balance and Darkseid managed to grab one of the wings of her helm. He used it as leverage to lift her off the ground and fling her into a nearby building. The helmet stayed in his hand but the woman sailed through the air and collided into a pile of wreckage. Then Darkseid discarded the helm as though he were throwing away a piece of trash and turned his attention to his other opponent.

He didn't have time to focus his vision on Bruce, however, since a series of batarangs warped his depth perception as they suddenly appeared right in front of him and exploded, leaving him temporarily blinded. A whistling sound travelled through the air Darkseid felt his legs snap together involuntarily.

Bruce watched as the stone fleshed giant collapsed to the ground like a toppled statue thanks to the rope binds he had flung around his legs. Then Bruce flipped a panel on his utility belt and mashed a red button. Sparks flew from the binding and Darkseid let out a low rumble of pain as the wire arced and spat electricity.

While the enemy was distracted, Bruce dashed over to the rubble Diana had crashed into. She was lying in a creator of debris, just beginning to stir as Bruce approached. He leapt into the creator and reached out a hand to the woman who took it, with a gentle smile starting to crease her lips.

"Are you alright?" Bruce asked her.

"I am now… thanks," Diana said, shaking her head to get the stars out of her vision.

The sound of an enormous blast brought both their eyes skyward as a still sparking Darkseid flew into the air and ripped his way out of the electro-binds with seemingly incredible force. Then he plummeted back down to Earth fist first and landed with a shockwave that threw Bruce completely off his feet while Diana used the momentum to launch herself into the air.

With a poised fist she came down on Darkseid, smacking him in the face. The giant managed to grab her by the throat at the same time and a scary grin cut across his gray face. "Just like your mother," he rumbled. Then he drove her bodily into the ground and began to pummel her. He was interrupted when Bruce flew in through the air with his wings out to give him more momentum. Bruce drove both his feet into Darkseid's face and fired the small jets at the end of the boots that were originally installed there for impact reduction, but which now shot gouts of flame into the face of his foe.

Darkseid howled and grabbed Bruce by the legs, slamming him down into the ground. Bruce landed with a loud grunt as the sensor on his HUD screamed "impact compensation" at his eyeballs. He deftly reached for the nearest tool on his utility belt and tossed out a series of black spheres which hissed black gas into Darkseid's leering face. The monster staggered back with a growl while Bruce leapt back to his feet and closed the distance. Continuing his theme of abuse to the face, he cocked a fist back and, with suit enhanced force, brought the strongest blow to the face of the giant that he could. The bones in his arm rattled at the impact and Darkseid flinched only for a second before returning the punch with one of his own which landed on Bruce's face with enough force to partially shatter his helm and send him flying backwards to land ignominiously in the dirt.

As the world swam around in a great blur of misery and destruction, Bruce tried to reorder his thoughts into something resembling coherency. Instead all that went through his mind was the distant sound of thudding as Darkseid resumed driving fists into a helpless Diana. Every nerve in his body screamed out for him to get up and fight, but when he tried, they would only scream louder in pain. The cracked and flickering heads up display scrolled "critical failure" across the parts of his vision that weren't exposed to the orange and black sky through the jagged gap in his helm. So for a brief moment, all he could do was lay there in a paralysis as deep as the one he was in after his first encounter with the villain Bane all those many months ago.

Not long into this paralysis, however, there came a noise in the distance. It was faint at first and Bruce thought he had imagined it. But then the noise sounded again; a horn, blowing low and deep, echoing off the shattered spires of the city. Then a pouch on Bruce's utility belt vibrated and he summoned just enough strength to reach down and grab the small monitor out of the pouch. He looked at the monitor flashing a status update on the beacon he had dropped into the water not that long ago. He smiled with satisfaction as a beam of energy shot out of nowhere and blasted Darkseid away from Daian and sent him spiraling through the air before skidding into a nearby car.

Bruce sat up wearily, ripping off his helm since its broken pieces were starting to dig into his skin. Then he turned a bruised and cut face in the direction from which the beam had come. A large, scaled looking tank had just rumbled into the park. It was immediately followed up by a swarm of air speeders with men in aquatic looking battle suits guiding them through the air. The speeders spat projectiles at some parademons hovering nearby and sent them scattering, and then, with a great echoing below, Arthur Curry, the prince of Atlantis, came riding in on the back of a giant lizard, his golden trident held high. "Men of Atlantis! Drive these beasts back to the abyss!" he cried as his army swept into Central Park and began going building to building, clearing the city of enemies.

As Arthur closed in on the still visibly shaken Darkseid, Bruce began crawling over to where Diana lay. Not long after Arthur had reached Darkseid, Bruce could here Darkseid's increasingly distressed cries of pain as he crawled nearer to the woman. As he reached her, Bruce saw that she was still conscious, though heavily battered. Bruce took her hand in his and snorted out a laugh, "Your one tough woman," he said, repressing a bloody cough.

"Takes a lot more than some overgrown rock to keep me down," she said, smiling through teeth clenched in what was clearly a lot of pain.

As the din of battle ebbed and receded around them, and the city was washed clean by the victorious forces of Atlantis, all Bruce and Diana could do was lay there, battered and bruised, and wait for rescue. All the while, Bruce whispered to Diana, "We're going to be alright."


End file.
